Tomorrow's Another Day
by ames 449
Summary: Sequel to A Lesson in Rebellion. Greg's trying to come to terms with his abduction and get his life back on track but between his normal life, an overbearing job and a sociopathic murderer can he do it?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** Ok, so I'm back, as promised, with a sequel. I have a wicked storyline planned in my evil little mind which I hope you all like! Hope you like, let me know your thoughts on it, good or bad. Constructive criticism is the most helpful thing you can give me (aside from cookies). Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter of Lessons. I was sad to see that one end. Anywhoooo enjoy!

_Tomorrow's Another Day_ is set roughly three months after _A Lesson In Rebellion_. I suppose Greg is OC but only because I put the poor man through hell and back in my first story! **

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**Chapter One **

Therapy. The treatment of disease or disorders by some remedial, rehabilitating or curative process. Roughly translated as the treatment of someone who has so much crap in their head they're about to explode.

Greg hated it.

He had been in therapy before, just after his stabbing but that was different. That was him and seven other people. This was just him and a shrink.

He nervously fiddled with a loose piece of thread coming off the sleeve of his jacket, not looking at the smiling woman sat across from him. This was his sixth visit to Dr Cleveland but he wasn't any more comfortable now than he had been on his first. She made him anxious. She was too smiley. Too nice. She must have been in her early forties and was garbed in a smart pant suit, her auburn hair scraped back into a clip. He knew she was staring at him, waiting for him to start. When he didn't she spoke.

"How are you today, Greg?"

"Good."

"Good?" She questioned.

"Yeah, good." He repeated.

"You want to talk about it?"

"I thought that was the point of therapy."

Dr Cleveland gave him a level stare but overlooked it. "How are you sleeping?"

"Like a baby." He lied smoothly. Dr Cleveland frowned a little but didn't push him. "How's work?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Fine."

"Are you back in the field yet?"

"Next week."

"How do you feel about that?"

"How am I supposed to feel about that?" Greg shot back at her.

"These sessions are for your benefit, you know?"

He looked at her for the first time since he entered the room. "I'm only here because I'm not allowed back out into the field unless I complete this program." He could think of a million things he would rather be doing right now. Not that he told her that.

"Do you feel like you were pressured into it?"

"A little. Yes. I wasn't really given much choice in the matter."

"Do you think it's not helping?"

Greg paused, weighing up his words before he spoke. "I don't know." He replied honestly, leaning forward in his chair, pressing his palms together in front of him.

"This is our sixth session now, Greg, and every time we meet we have this same discussion. We never talk about how you feel about what happened to you. You need to open up. Let it all out."

Greg met her eyes. "I'm not ready to."

She gave him a small smile. "Try."

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to arrange his thoughts and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to get on with my normal life."

"What do you mean?"

Wincing, he shrugged. "I feel… different. I _am_ different. I nearly died, three times. It's a lot to get my head around."

"It is, but you can come back from this. You have a good support network."

Greg briefly thought of his work companions and knew it was true but it didn't help him at that moment.

"I feel… afraid… of everything." He fumbled over the words, trying to put his feelings into some semblance of order.

"They're natural feelings to have after what you've been through."

He dragged a hand over his eyes, sinking back into his chair. "I want my life back."

"It will take time but you will get it back."

He gave her a wry smile. "How? It's not over for me yet."

"The man who attacked you has been caught, hasn't he?" She questioned, jotting a few words on the file on her lap before flicking her gaze back to his face.

"Yes." He admitted.

Michael Wade had been picked up two days after Greg's abduction. He remembered watching the interview from the viewing room. His blood had run cold as he listened. Wade had no remorse about his actions. He only seemed sorry that Greg had been found alive. The twenty-one year old boy had so much hatred towards Greg. It had been frightening listening to him talking about what he had done to him so calmly. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Michael Wade still worries you?" Dr Cleveland asked.

"I keep thinking he's going to turn up. Try and kill me again."

"He's in prison. He can't hurt you now, Greg."

"I know that. It doesn't stop the way I feel though."

Dr Cleveland glanced down at her notes. "You moved out of your apartment?"

"Yes." It had been the first thing Greg did after being released from the hospital. He couldn't bear to go back there. It didn't feel like his home any more.

"How does that make you feel?"

"Safer?" He threw tentatively out.

"Does it? Or are you just saying what you think I want to hear?"

With a lop-sided smile he shrugged. "Aren't you supposed to figure that out?"

She sighed and continued as if he hadn't spoken. "So your new apartment?"

"It's nice. In a great neighbourhood. Closer to Nick."

"Nick is your friend from work?"

"Yeah. He's my rock." Greg admitted. "He keeps me sane. Most of the time I think I would crack up if it wasn't for him." Again she jotted a few things down. It made Greg nervous. He wondered what she was writing.

"So back to my first question. How are you today?"

Greg sighed. "I won't lie to you, it's taken me a long time to get where I am today. The last few months have been… hard. I've been at rock bottom and I made a conscious decision never to go back there. I'm still a little flaky at times and scared of things but mostly I'm happy with myself. Even when things are shit I think they can always get worse. I mean, I haven't been beaten up, stabbed or left for dead yet so I'm already doing better."

She nodded. "It's good to have a positive attitude." He shifted his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I've dealt with worse and I'm still here. Doing the things I enjoy, with people I like. Things aren't as bad as they seem." He paused, his brow furrowing. "But then I think about that guy and what he did to me and I fall to pieces. I want to be strong. I want to get on with it but sometimes it's hard to let go of the past."

"No one expects you to let go of the past but you do have to learn to cope with it."

"I know." He said quietly.

Greg left Dr Cleveland's office, pulling his sunglasses from his pocket and walked over to his car. He only had to complete another two sessions and then he was deemed to be fit for field work. He was nervous about it. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready but a part of him wanted to get back to normality. Grissom had put him in the lab for the last few months, hoping to build his confidence back up and truthfully he had enjoyed it. It was easier to deal with somehow. He guess it was because there were always people in the lab. It made him feel safer. Most of the time you were on your own in the field.

He was supposed to meeting Nick for lunch but he almost wished he hadn't agreed to it. He felt drained after that session. It was the most he had opened up. He had talked about feelings he didn't even know he had. When the hour had been up he felt as if he had been shoved out of the door with all these nightmares rolling around his mind. It was the most unsettled he had felt in a long time.

Pulling up outside the café he locked his vehicle and wandered into the substantial diner. It was decorated in a 1950s style, with more stainless steel on display than was ever necessary. In the corner an old juke box was pumping out a Buddy Holly song and neon signs flashed whimsically on the walls. Greg raised his brow making a mental note that Nick was never picking the venue again.

Flicking his eyes around the crowded room he couldn't see the Texan and so moved over to the only empty booth, sliding behind the table. After a moment a blonde haired waitress in a gaudy pink and mint green shirt wandered over. He ordered a soda and waited patiently as she brought it over. Sipping absently on it he was half way through reading the menu when Nick sunk down opposite it.

"You do know what tardiness means, don't you?" Greg asked. Nick glanced at his watch.

"I'm only ten minutes late. The traffic on the strip was hell."

Nick shrugged his jacket off and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up. Although he had been out of a cast for weeks now his left arm was considerably thinner than his right. Greg was still amazed at what he had done that night. It was not every day someone threw themselves under a car to save your life. He would never be able to tell Nick how grateful he was. Greg suspected he knew but there were something's in life that saying thank you for didn't quite cover. Being hit by a crazy psychotic woman was one of them.

"You just got off shift?"

Nick shook his head. "Nah, been home and slept."

"Bonus." Greg said flicking his brow.

Things were quiet in the lab at the moment. It was almost as if someone had handed them a break since Greg's abduction. It suited everyone however. They had all slipped easily into normal shifts and no overtime. Everyone was soaking it up. Calm before the storm was the phrase that sprung to mind. They were making the most of it whilst it lasted.

The waitress reappeared and they both ordered some food. Nick waited for her to leave before speaking.

"Have you slept yet?" Nick thought he looked tired. Truthfully Nick hadn't seen him look well rested for a long time.

"Nope. Had my therapy appointment this morning."

"How's that going?" Nick asked taking a mouthful of his drink. Greg quirked his brow at him.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Nick laughed. Like Greg, Grissom had referred Nick to a therapist to talk about his 'incident'. Nick found the whole thing amusing. He complained that he didn't need it and in all honesty he didn't. He seemed to have taken the whole thing in his stride. Greg wondered if he was just really good at hiding his feelings or if he really was fine. He wished he could get over it so quickly. He felt weak for not being able to do so.

They continued to talk for a while about everything from work to video games and only halted when the waitress appeared with their food. Greg picked a fry off his plate whilst reaching for the ketchup.

"You know Ecklie's interviewing for a new DNA tech today?" Nick said.

Greg raised his brow, his fry nearly making his mouth. "Is this one coming with a full background check?"

Nick shrugged. "God knows. You want me to swab for DNA when no ones looking?"

He laughed. "People already think we're crazy because we're in therapy. Let's not add to that."

"People think _you're_ crazy." Nick corrected him. "They think I'm a hero."

"You're never letting that drop are you?" Greg asked, finally shoving the fry in his mouth.

"Nah. The chicks love the boy hero thing."

"Well if that fails you can always try the dating columns. There are lots of desperate girls in Vegas looking for equally desperate heroes." Greg's lip twitched slightly at Nick's expression.

"Maybe I'll pass them your number."

"Thanks."

Once they had eaten Greg made his way home. He needed sleep. His new apartment lay just outside the city centre. It was one of those new complexes and had only been built three years ago. Greg liked it because it was so new but also due to the fact it had more security features than Fort Knox.

Driving down the ramp he swiped his electronic fob over the small black pad and watched as the six foot gates swung open to the underground parking garage. Pulling up into his space he got out of the car, glancing around as he locked it. He walked quickly over to the door leading to the elevators and typed in the key code before dragging it open. Stepping in he tapped the third floor and sank back against the wall, running his fingers through his hair.

It was smaller than his old apartment but it was cosy. It had two decent sized bedrooms, and a newly installed kitchen come living area. It was costing him two thirds of his pay each month but he didn't care. It was worth it for peace of mind. This place was impossible to get into and even if someone did get hold of his front door key they still needed the fob and the key code to even get into the building.

Although he had unpacked most of his stuff there was still a few boxes lying around. He didn't even know what was in them. Part of him didn't care. They could stay there forever. Whatever was in them he hadn't missed up to now. He sank onto the sofa, throwing his legs out into the middle of the room and let his head fall onto the back, staring at ceiling whilst stifling a yawn. Without meaning to he fell asleep.

When he awoke the sky was beginning to darken. Disorientated he realised he was still on the sofa. Stretching and rubbing the knots from his neck he showered, ate a small dinner and headed for the lab. He flashed his ID at Judy as he passed the reception but she called out to him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Dr Grissom asked to see you when you arrived."

"Thanks, Judy." Greg forced a smile before heading to the locker room, wondering what Grissom wanted him for.

Warrick Brown was stood at his locker when he entered and glanced up with a smile. "Hey man. How's it going?"

"It's going good. Any idea what the assignments are for tonight?"

"You're keen."

"I like to be prepared." Greg said with a grin. "Get all my equipment ready."

Warrick shook his head laughing. "You have seriously got to get out more."

Greg shrugged out of his jacket, sticking it in his locker and straightening his bright red t-shirt. Since he wasn't required to be in the public eye at the moment he had gone back to wearing his normal clothes. Normal being the word. Greg had tried to tone his wardrobe down after making CSI level one but he still liked to splash a little colour out now and again.

Warrick studied him for a moment. "You do know that shirt is a step from glowing in the dark?"

Greg gave him a fake laugh and shrugged. "Brown, black and white are just so… dull. I need primary colours in my diet."

"Diet?" Warrick raised his brow at his word choice.

Greg shrugged still smirking as he closed and snapped his padlock into place, checking it was secure before heading up to Grissom's office. He knocked lightly on the door and entered on invitation. Grissom, as always, was surrounded by a stack of paper work. He glanced at him over top of his glasses.

"You wanted to see me?"

Grissom indicated for him to take a seat. Greg complied, shifting himself to get comfortable. He had always been really nervous around his boss but since his abduction he had found himself more at ease. He figured it was probably because Grissom and Warrick had been the ones who had found him. It was difficult not to feel a connection after that.

"How are you feeling?"

Greg, who was used to this question being asked daily by everyone, gave his automated response. "Fine."

"Therapy going well?"

"As well as telling a complete stranger the most intimate details of your life can go."

Grissom gave him a look that said he was about to ruin his good mood. "Ecklie wants you to retake your proficiency test."

For a moment Greg's brain didn't register what had been said but as it sank in he felt his anger rising.

"What? But I've done it. I passed it with flying colours!"

Grissom gave him a tight lipped smile. He evidently wasn't happy about it either. "You've been out of the field for two and a half months now. He thinks you might be rusty."

Greg opened his mouth to contradict him but when he thought about it he realised he had been. His beating had occurred at the end of September. He had been given a month off following that, then with his stabbing and abduction he estimated he had actually worked no more than ten weeks in the last five months. Nine of those had been in the DNA lab after his abduction. That disturbed him. He didn't like what Ecklie was proposing but in a strange way he did understand it.

Grissom sighed. "You finish your sessions next week?"

"I have another on Thursday and then my last on the following Monday." Greg confirmed, his mood sinking.

"I want you in the field with me tonight. We'll get this wrapped up sooner rather than later." Grissom told him.

Greg felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn't sure he was ready yet. He had mentally prepared himself for starting back next week. Now he was being told that not only did he have to go into the field tonight but he was also being examined on his work. He had wanted any easy shift after a stressful day. It didn't look like he was going to get it.

"Greg?" He snapped his head up, dragging his mind out of his thoughts. He hadn't realised Grissom was speaking to him. He blushed.

"Sorry."

"Are you ready to do this tonight?" Greg wanted to say no but he feared the repercussions of that word. Without missing a beat he replied.

"I am."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

Greg left Grissom's office and headed up to the break room feeling despondent. He knew he could do the job with his eyes closed but even so it was different knowing he was being tested on it. He felt incompetent. He suspected Ecklie thought he was but he hoped Grissom didn't. He was so deep in thought that he ran straight into Nick.

"Sorry man." He apologised.

"It's fine." Nick studied him. He looked so troubled that he immediately began to worry. "What's wrong?"

Greg sighed. "I'm out in the field tonight."

"That's great." Nick frowned seeing his expression. "That is good isn't it?"

"It would be great if I wasn't having to redo my proficiency." He grumbled.

"What? Why?"

"Ecklie's orders." Greg said sourly. "Apparently he thinks I'm incapable of doing my job after being out of the field for so long."

"Man, that's a bunch of crap and you know it." Nick assured him, clapping him on the shoulder. Greg gave him a small smile. He really did appreciate his support but part of him agreed with Ecklie. His irritation stemmed from the fact he didn't want to be in the field at all tonight. "Who's assessing you?"

"Grissom."

"You'll be fine. Just do what you normally do." Nick pulled a face. "Well maybe not _exactly_ what you normally do."

Greg didn't take the bait. He was too annoyed. "I really don't need this tonight." He muttered quietly.

"You don't want to be back in the field?"

He shrugged not wanting to go into the details of it. He didn't want to explain field work made him feel physically sick. That he was afraid of being vulnerable. With a sigh he fed Nick a lie, regretting doing it but knowing he couldn't tell him the truth. He didn't want to seem weak. Nick had bounced back from the incident so quickly. Greg thought everyone else expected him to do the same.

"I didn't want my first night in the field to involve an exam." It was partly true. He felt more than resentful that Grissom had chosen tonight to do this.

Nick gave him a supportive smile. "Better to get it out of the way."

"This isn't a trip to the dentist." He snapped. "My whole career depends on me getting this right. If I screw up tonight I'm pretty sure I'm looking for a new job or spending the rest of my life in the lab!"

Greg hadn't meant to snap. It wasn't Nick's fault but he was frustrated with the whole situation. He wasn't ready for this. He wanted to get back into the field eventually but not tonight. He needed more time. What was worse was that he had spoken the truth to Nick. If he messed this up he had no doubt Ecklie would demote him permanently back to the lab, or worse hand him his pink slip. Both scenarios were unthinkable. Not knowing what to say and unable to bear the surprised look on the CSIs face he headed into the break room without turning back.

Nick joined him a few minutes later but he didn't have a chance to apologise as Warrick entered. Nick sat on the other side of the table, as far away from Greg as was physically possible. Warrick slumped into a chair next to him. If he noticed the tension in the room he didn't say anything. Both Catherine and Sara were off this evening but Adrienne arrived almost at the same time as Grissom. She pulled a chair up next to Greg and gave him a smile. He returned it barely. He didn't feel like playing at niceties but none of this was her fault. Not that it was Nick's fault either. Greg felt a pang of guilt and stole a glance at his friend but he was staring at the table, his brow tightly knitted.

His attention was diverted as Grissom began speaking. He gave Nick and Adrienne a db in Clark County, and Greg and Grissom were going to case in North Vegas. Warrick was going solo on a breaking and entering case in Henderson. Once they were all clear about their tasks they left. Greg wanted to catch up with Nick but he was accosted by Grissom and so he didn't have the chance to apologise.

The drive was silent. Greg didn't feel like talking and luckily for him Grissom was equally quiet. Their destination lay in the suburbs. The house was a large structure with a double garage and steps leading up to the front door. It looked like a nice neighbourhood, a fact that was only marred by a number of patrol cars, their lights flashing, parked outside it. A number of people had gathered on the other side of the yellow police tape and were talking animatedly, tutting and shaking their heads, to the uniformed officers who were protecting the scene. As Greg got out of the car he couldn't help but stare at them. They were like vultures, looking for a scrap of flesh.

Grabbing his kit out of the trunk the two CSIs ducked under the yellow police tape and waited as Captain Jim Brass approached them.

"You would think they'd have something better to do." Greg muttered.

"Are you kidding?" Brass flicked his eyes at the huddled crowd, his tone sour. "This is probably the most excitement this neighbourhood has ever had. It's like something out of Stepford Wives here."

Greg smiled at little at that and followed the captain and Grissom towards the house listening absently as Brass went over the case.

"The wife called it in. She was one step from breakdown when we got here. She said she got home from work and found him like this."

As they stepped into the hallway Greg got his first look at the body. The stairs ran parallel to the front door leading up to a galleried landing. Hanging from the banister was the lifeless form of a dark haired man. No wonder the wife was so distressed. The first thing she had seen when she opened the front door was her husband's body. David Philips was stood at the foot of the stairs, his expression sombre as always. He greeted them with a slight incline of his head.

"Have you pronounced him yet?" Grissom asked.

David nodded. "TOD about four hours ago, maybe five. Just waiting for you guys to cut him down so I can get him back to the morgue."

"Thank you, David."

Grissom had already moved to examine the body but Greg remained in the door way. From first looks it appeared to be a suicide but his arms weren't hanging lifelessly at his sides as they should have been. They were bound in front of him. Greg couldn't help but stare at the bonds that held him.

In a split second he was back in that container, tied up, beaten and waiting to die. A chill ran through him as his breath caught in his chest. He felt sick, his head swimming and then-

"Greg?" he felt a hand on his arm and blinked, coming back to reality. Disorientated, he stared at Grissom for a moment before snapping out of it.

"Sorry."

"Are you all right?"

He nodded, purposely moving into the room. He didn't want Grissom to think he wasn't coping with this. He needed to pass his proficiency. He had no doubt that Ecklie would fire him if he screwed up and so he pushed everything apart from the scene from his mind. It wasn't easy but with a shuddering breath he brought himself back to his task.

"Have you got ID on the victim?" Greg asked Brass, wanting to draw attention away from him nearly freaking out.

"Marcus Rowley. He's thirty five, a lawyer. No kids, it's just him and his wife Melissa. Point of entry seems to be through the patio doors at the back of the house."

Grissom, who had been studying Greg intently, dropped his eyes to the body. "What do you think?"

Greg glanced up at Grissom and said the first thing that came into his head. Unfortunately for Greg it wasn't the smartest thing. "Definitely _not_ a suicide."

Grissom's brow twitched but it was Brass who spoke. "Well, if you and Sherlock Holmes don't need me, Gil, I'm going to talk to the neighbours."

Feeling more than resentful Greg turned back to the body. He knew what he had just said was stupid. It was obvious this wasn't a suicide. No one tied their hands before killing themselves but even so Brass' sarcasm had knocked his confidence a little.

He mentally berated himself. Brass was always sarcastic so why was he letting it affect him tonight of all nights? _Get a grip Greg_, he thought. _You can do this with your eyes closed. You're not new to this. _

With a renewed vigour he pulled his flashlight out and studied the ropes wrapped around his hands, moving up to his arms. There was already heavy bruising beginning to form on the ashen skin. Greg snapped multiple shots of the body, trying to fight the image of the photo collage Michael Wade had left on his wall. He almost sighed with relief when he put his camera down, wishing everything didn't remind him of his past. He felt like an emotional wreck. Catching Grissom's eye, Greg realised the older man was waiting for him to talk through the scene.

"He fought back." Greg mused, his eyes still on the body. "There's bruising to the arms and also the neck."

"In hangings there is always bruising to the neck due to the sudden weight placed on the area when the body drops." Grissom told him. Greg knew he was waiting for him to elaborate and he didn't disappoint him.

"The bruising is usually nearer the bottom of jaw line because of the way the rope moves." Greg said, using the light to highlight what he was talking about, "The vic has bruising lower down his neck. He was strangled before he was hanged."

Grissom's eyes shone brightly at him but he didn't confirm or deny his theory. Instead he turned to David. "Let's get him down."

With a degree of difficulty they cut the body down. Whilst Greg placed the rope inside the clear evidence bag, sealing it up, David zipped the black bag up and wheeled the victim out to his van. They would check in on the body later. For now the most important thing was to process the scene.

Greg went immediately to work. He thought he would be rusty after such a long absence but he slipped back into it effortlessly. Heading up the stairs he pulled out what he needed to print and began on the banister. He managed to get a couple of partials but he suspected they were either the victims or the wife's.

He wasn't completely opposed to the idea that the wife had murdered her husband but if she had he wondered why she would have called it in. He tried not to get bogged down with motives. Grissom had always said motives weren't their job. They were supposed to follow the evidence and that was what Greg was going to do. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be a lot of that. Maybe they could get more from the rope once they were back in the lab. He was holding out for hair or skin epithelia's but he doubted they would get that lucky. He had a feeling this was going to be a difficult case to solve.

He slowly made his way into the master bedroom, flicking the flashlight around the room. It was clean. Probably the cleanest bedroom he had ever seen. The walls were white washed and bare aside from a couple of strategically positioned paintings. There was nothing on any of the surfaces aside from a lamp and a picture frame. Greg wandered over and ran his eyes over the floor, looking for something. Anything.

After a couple of minutes on his hands and knees, scanning the floor meticulously it paid off. Underneath the window he found a fibre. Pulling his tweezers from the pocket of his vest he carefully picked it up and studied it. He had no idea what it was and so bagged it, confident he would find out back at the lab. Thinking that the suspect could have been in here, maybe caught the victim in the room he began to rise, intending to print the window frame when something caught his eye.

It was partially covered by the edge of the bed sheet. At first he thought it was blood but as he pulled it up and flicked the light underneath he realised something was painted onto the dark wooden floor. It went all the way underneath to the other side of the stead. Confused he shifted slightly on his hands and knees, his head disappearing under the frame and tried to get a better look. However, the space between the floor and bottom of the bed was so small it was difficult.

"Greg?"

He had been so intent on trying to figure out what he was seeing that he hadn't heard Grissom enter. Jumping out of his skin he smacked his head out the underside of the bed and cursed. When he sat up, rubbing his skull, Grissom was giving him a perplexed look.

"I found something, under the bed." Greg said, trying to rationalise why he had been caught in that position.

Grissom came around to where he was sat and took a look for himself. Frowning, the older man got to his feet.

"Do you feel up to some furniture moving?" He asked with a mischievous expression. Greg raised his brow.

"Is this like a feng shui thing?"

"Do you practice feng shui, Greg?" He looked mildly amused.

"Arrange your house a certain way and inner peace will be yours?" Greg scoffed. "No."

"The ancient Chinese believed that the placement of objects within an environment is vital to the flow of energy." Grissom explained. "It follows the principle of wind and water. Both elements represent the changes and transformations in nature. So by balancing these two forces out energy will flow better and thus create harmony."

Greg, who was used to Grissom's ramblings by now, took this latest one in his stride with a slight nod of his head.

"I guess it really is all elementary." Greg smirked at his lame attempt at a joke but Grissom merely gave him a look before moving to the far side of the bed.

Once they had done a complete sweep of the blankets, they shifted the mattress off and both stood back in awe. Through the slats in the frame scorched into the floor with red paint was the word JUDAS. Greg raised his brow.

"Maybe it's not as elementary as we thought."

Grissom leaned in closer to get a better look, his brow furrowing. "Mr Rowley was hanged. The word Judas is written on his bedroom floor…" Grissom glanced at Greg. "So where's the thirty pieces of silver?"

It took both him and Grissom a further hour to complete processing and with a collection of evidence they headed back to the lab. Greg was exhausted. He tried to keep his eyes open as he leaned his elbow against the window and stared out of the windscreen. All he wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed but it wasn't even midnight yet.

"You did well tonight." Greg blushed at the praise. Grissom rarely gave it out and it took him by surprise. He mumbled a thank you hoping the darkness would hide his flaming cheeks. "What do you make of the case?"

Greg thought carefully about his answer before speaking. "It seems to be a recreation of how Judas Iscariot killed himself."

"I didn't know you were religious, Greg." Grissom said, glancing at him before turning back to the road.

"I'm not." He replied. "But you don't have to be religious to know the most well known story of all time. There is one thing I don't understand however."

"What?"

"Judas Iscariot committed suicide following his betrayal of Jesus. So if this was a recreation of his death then why were Mr Rowley's hands tied?"

"Maybe he wasn't as open to the idea as our killer was."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** Thanks to all those who reviewed. I'll issue you all with cookies :D I really do have an obsession with cookies dont i? Anywho, chapter three is here. The first few chapters are quite case centred but the reasoning behind which will become apparent soon, I promise so stick with it. Hope you like. 

I'm not sure what's going on with FF but for some reason this is struggling to upload. It said it had but its not doing it. Goddamn technology growl. But anywho, hopefully its working now.

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**Chapter Three **

Nick's mood was sour. He had hardly said two words on the way to the scene and he had said even less as he processed. He knew Greg probably hadn't meant to snap at him but even so it irked him. In truth Nick wasn't nearly as annoyed about it as he was making out, he was more worried. It wasn't like Greg to lash out. In fact it was completely out of character. Nick knew the younger CSI had been through a tough time recently and he also realised that despite his constant reassurances that he was fine Greg was anything but. He just wished Greg would talk to him about it. Shaking his head a little Nick tried to focus on the shoe tread he was trying to process.

"You got the samples?"

Nick glanced up as Adrienne West appeared beside him. She was a fairly non-descript looking woman in her late twenties with short brown hair that was pulled tightly back into a clip. She was a little abrasive at times, but Nick had found a strange liking in her. He guessed it was because she had saved his life when Greg had been abducted. Emily Wade had been ready to slam an SUV into him and Adrienne had stopped her. It wasn't the kind of thing you could brush off easily. He would be eternally grateful to her for it. In all honesty since that night Adrienne had lightened up considerably. When she wasn't so hormonal she was actually quite nice to work with.

"Yeah I got them." Nick said pushing himself to his feet.

They had been called out to a db on the roadside in Clark County. The victim was a nineteen year old girl called Laura Breman. It looked as if she had got a flat tire, stopped to call for help but when the tow truck had arrived the guy had found her dead.

Nick turned to study the scene, taking in the car parked up at the side of the road. The body of the blond haired victim had been lying several feet from it but she was now in the morgue. She drove a silver lexus with new plates indicating the victim had money but Nick doubted this had been a robbery. The keys were still in the ignition and her purse was still in the car. Nothing seemed to have been removed from the vehicle itself and even her cell phone was still on the passenger seat.

"What did you get from the car?" He asked.

"There's a slight fender damage on the left side but that could have been done prior to this incident." Adrienne told him. "I managed to get some transfer off it but other than that there doesn't seem to be much wrong. Apart from the dead body." She added.

"So she breaks down, someone murders and rapes her but doesn't rob her." Nick mused aloud. "Why? It doesn't make sense. You go to all the trouble of getting her out of the way but leave the expensive car behind?"

Nick glanced around again. The road was fairly deserted but just off the freeway. It was unlikely that anyone would have seen anything here so witnesses were definitely out. Nothing about this case made sense and Nick hated not having an answer.

"I don't think it was about money." Adrienne said finally. Nick glanced up at her, a quizzical look in his eyes. "Well she did have heavy bruising to her neck indicating she was strangled and I found her underwear in the glove compartment. Maybe this was just about sex."

"You found her underwear in the glove compartment?" Nick demanded baffled.

"Weird huh?" Adrienne wrinkled her nose.

"So either the victim has a thing for keeping her underwear in her car or-"

"The killer removed them and put them in there." Adrienne interrupted, frowning deeply. "Does that not seem a little strange? Why would he remove her underwear and go to all the trouble of walking back to her car and putting them in the glove compartment."

Nick sighed, dropping his hands to his hips. "I have absolutely no idea."

"Are you guys done here?" They both glanced up as Sofia Curtis approached them.

"Yeah, we're done." Nick confirmed. "Will you have someone tow the lexus back to the lab?"

"Sure." She nodded, turning her gaze to the vehicle. "That's a pretty expensive car for someone so young to be driving." She observed.

"Maybe daddy paid for it." Nick replied, thinking along the same lines. Even on the money he was making he couldn't afford something that nice. Well he could if he planned on starving himself and sitting in the dark for the rest of the year.

"Well if you guys think you can manage to get back to the crime lab by yourselves I'm going to take off. I've got two interviews to do, Laura Breman's family to trace and a stack of paper work sat on my desk that's not going to sort itself out." Sofia grumbled.

Nick watched as she got back into her car and took off up the road. Picking up his case him and Adrienne wandered over to the Denali, pulling the doors open. Nick pushed the keys into the ignition and started the engine.

"Are you ok?" Adrienne asked once they were on their way. He flicked his eyes to her for a second before concentrating on the road.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She raised her brow.

"So that's why you've hardly said two words all night?"

"It's just this case. It's never easy seeing someone so young dead." It wasn't a complete lie. The case had disturbed him. These ones always did but he was still thinking about Greg.

"You were quiet before we even got out here." She counted. "What's wrong?"

He exhaled deeply, wondering how women did that. It was as if the had an inbuilt lie detector.

"It's Greg." He winced. "I don't know, he's just not himself."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… he's…" He paused and shrugged. "Moody."

Adrienne laughed, speaking slowly as if he was missing something that was blatantly obvious. "Nick, the guy is trying to put his life back together after going through something pretty horrific. It takes time. Not to mention he's got Conrad breathing down his neck. Give him a break."

Nick felt guilty. She had got straight to the heart of something he had missed. Greg was his best friend and yet he had almost ignored what had happened to him, made a joke of it, carried on as normal. He tried to justify his own behaviour. Greg had never wanted to talk about it. He had put his head down and got on with it, not making a fuss. It was how Greg was. He was too stubborn to ask for help. Nick should have known he wouldn't be able to move on that quickly. It had taken him a long time to get over his own abduction.

"I think I liked it better when it was me and Jack." Nick mumbled.

"You can always ask Ecklie to shift you to days." She told him pointedly.

"Days and pulling teeth is the phrase that comes to mind."

Jack Robinson was the Hodges of the field and he annoyed the hell out of Nick. He thought he was Grissom and that he wasn't annoyed him. Nick had been relieved when Ecklie had moved him to days. Deep in thought, the rest of the drive back was silent.

* * *

When Greg and Grissom arrived back at the crime lab, he headed up to the trace lab and found Hodges at the scope. The technician glanced up at him and Greg expected him to say something about him having to retake his proficiency test but he didn't.

"Leave it on the side," He said indicating the evidence he was holding. "I'll page you when it's done." Greg raised his brow.

"Ok, who are you and what have you done with Hodges?"

The tech gave him a strange look before scowling. "Some of us have real work to do, Sanders."

"That's more like it." Greg said with a grin as he moved to the other scope. "Are you using this?"

"No. Why?" He said suspiciously.

Greg didn't say anything as he pulled a pair of gloves on. Grabbing a pair of tweezers from the drawer underneath the desk he pulled the fibre onto a glass slide before placing it under the lens. Adjusting the knobs on the side until it was in focus he studied it for a moment, trying to figure out what he was looking at. It appeared to be a synthetic dark blue material but he had no idea what it was off. Pulling back from the scope he stared into space for a moment before scrawling a label for the slide.

"Will you page me as soon as you know what that is?" Greg asked.

Hodges exhaled deeply. "That is my job."

"Thanks." Greg flashed a smile at him before turning and heading out.

As he pushed the double doors into the morgue open Doc Robbins and Grissom looked up at him. The familiar Y incision had already been performed and was neatly sewn up indicating that he had already performed the autopsy. Greg surmised he had probably done it as soon as David had returned with the body. Doc Robbins wasted no time in relating his findings.

"Your vic died of asphyxiation. The bruising around the neck is consistent with hangings but there's some peri-mortem bruising further down," He pointed to the lower part of the neck line where Greg had indicated earlier to Grissom. "The markings indicate he was probably strangled before he was hanged."

Grissom dropped his gaze to the body and nodded. "Looks like a left hand by the thumb imprint on the right side of his neck. Did you take a hand span?"

Doc Robbins nodded. "Twenty centimetres. I scraped under the fingernails already."

Greg studied the body, his mind wandering. He tried to pull his thoughts back to reality but suddenly it wasn't Marcus Rowley lying on the slab, it was him. His chest cavity was open, his lungs and organs pulled out. Blood spilling like a fountain down his torso. Bile rose in his throat and he forced his eyes shut, willing the image to disappear.

When he opened them he was back in the cold morgue. He realised he must have missed half of what was being said but Grissom and Doc Robbins were both gazing at him.

"Greg?" Grissom said his name in that worried tone for the second time that evening. The young CSI shook himself out of it and continued as if nothing had happened.

"What about the bruising on his arms?" Greg asked, leaning over for a better look. He also hoped the action would divert attention from him zoning out. It almost worked. Al Robbins dropped his eyes back to the corpse but he could still feel Grissom's eyes on him.

"Defensive wounds, your victim put up a fight. I found similar markings on his back."

Grissom and Doc Robbins rolled the body onto the side and Greg took a snap shot of the purple contusions that stood starkly out on his pale skin. Greg's eye caught a small, almost unnoticeable welt on the side of his neck, almost hidden by his hair.

"What's that?"

The two older men moved closer to study it. "It looks like a puncture wound." Robbins concluded.

"Maybe from a needle?" Greg asked, flicking his eyes between the two men.

"Could be."

"Did you send off a blood sample to tox?" Grissom inquired.

"Yes. The weirdest thing I found was this however." He turned around, picking up a metal kidney dish. A handful of silver coins were strewn across the bottom of the bowl. "They were lodged along the oesophageal tract and I also located some in the stomach. It looks like they were ingested." Grissom glanced up at Greg and quirked his brow.

"I guess we found our thirty pieces of silver."

* * *

Greg left the morgue and made his way to the break room before Grissom had a chance to ask him what had happened in the morgue. He didn't relish explaining that he had been two seconds from completely freaking out. Greg could just imagine Grissom's reaction to that. He shuddered.

He needed coffee. Anything to keep him awake. He was used to working nights but a mixture of a stressful morning and a lack of sleep was taking its toll on him. He needed to be alert and pumping his body full of caffeine seemed to be the best solution he could come up with at that moment. Pushing the door open he found Nick and Adrienne sat at the table, a number of photographs strewn in front of them. Adrienne glanced between the two men and immediately got to her feet.

"I'm uh going to see if Mia's turned up anything yet." And with that she left. Greg frowned after her, wondering what Nick had said to her. Shaking his head he turned back to Nick feeling a mixture of foolishness and awkwardness. The Texan met his eyes.

"Sorry." They had both spoken at the same time. Laughing a little Greg moved over to the table and dropped into the chair Adrienne had previously occupied.

"I should be the one saying sorry. I over reacted."

"You did, but I understand why." Nick gave him a lopsided smile, his tone less strained.

"Not really an excuse for going off at you."

"Well, I'm sure I can think of a way you can make it up to me." Greg raised his brow.

"I think I would rather have you mad at me." Casting his eyes down at the photographs Nick was looking at he sighed. "This your vic?"

"Yeah." Nick's expression suddenly turned sombre. "Weird case. We were trying to figure out why this guy raped her, didn't steal her car but put her underwear in the glove compartment."

Greg was as baffled by this as Nick was. He rose and clapped him on the shoulder, heading over to the kitchen area. "Good luck with that one, man."

"Thanks. How did you get on?"

Shrugging Greg poured himself a coffee and reclaimed his chair. "Good." He actually smiled. "I found vital evidence at the scene. I'm just waiting on trace to identify a fibre and then got to see what I can pull from it all."

Nick smiled faintly. "Greg, you know I'm here for you, man. If you need to talk or whatever."

Greg stared into space for a moment. Was it that obvious to everyone he wasn't coping? He made a mental note to act more normal. Well as normal as he could under the circumstances. He felt anything but normal.

"I'm fine, but thank you."

They both sat in an uncomfortable silence, neither one of them knowing what to say. They were saved by a beeping sound. They both glanced down at their pagers.

"It's mine." Greg got to his feet, grateful for the excuse to leave. He took a deep gulp of his coffee before emptying the rest down the sink. "I'll catch you later."

Greg headed up to the lab but Grissom was coming towards him. He gave him a searching look but Greg jumped in before he had a chance to ask if he was ok. He didn't want to explain what was going on inside his head.

"Grissom. You beeped me?"

"Tox is back on Mr Rowley." He handed Greg the report which he quickly flicked his eyes over.

"Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid?" Greg questioned. "He was given a date rape drug?"

"GHB is used as a date rape drug, yes. It's a heavy sedative. Our vic would have been out of it fairly quickly."

"So the suspect enters the house. Mr Rowley tries to fight him off but is given a shot of GHB to subdue him." Greg frowned. "If the intention of the crime was to hang the victim, why did he strangle him first? And why bind his hands?"

Grissom pursed his lips thoughtfully. "The amount of GHB in his system is just enough to make him docile enough to manage. Maybe Mr Rowley was able to fight back. The suspect might have been forced to improvise."

Greg shook his head. He had brought enough rope to hang him and tie him up. It didn't sound like he had improvised. When he relayed this to Grissom the older man quirked his brow.

"He intended to bind him and strangle him from the start." Greg pulled a face as he continued speaking. "He likes his victims to struggle. Has Mrs Rowley been interviewed yet?" Grissom shook his head.

"Jim will let us know when she's calm enough to speak to."

"Do you think she did it?"

"I follow what the evidence tells me, Greg."

"And what is the evidence telling you?"

"That we're dealing with a sociopath, possibly a religious man, with access to medical equipment. More than likely he's local and judging from the way Mr Rowley was killed this might not be his first murder."

"You think we've got a serial killer?" Greg asked somewhat surprised.

"Maybe. It's too early to say. He seems a little too well organized for this to be his first murder however. He was well prepared. He had all the equipment he needed. He knew he would have time to get into the house, stage the body, move the bed and write on the floor. He probably knew the Rowley's, knew their routines."

"It could just be a crime of passion. Maybe Mrs Rowley killed him and panicked, decided to make it look like murder?"

Grissom looked thoughtful. "Mr Rowley is over six foot tall. Melissa Rowley is just under five foot five. Even if she managed to kill him, I doubt she could have lifted him over the banister to hang him."

Greg passed a hand over his eyes. This was just what he didn't need whilst trying to pass his proficiency; a serial killer. He had a feeling this night was going to be a long one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

_The lab was full of people. Greg wandered down the corridor as Grissom came towards him. He tried to speak to him but the entomologist kept walking. Frowning Greg continued, wondering what was wrong with him. Seeing Nick and Warrick he made his way over to them, intending to find out what was going on but as he approached them the two men turned their backs on him. Hurt and annoyed he tried to get their attention but they continued to ignore him._

_And then he heard it. A voice he never wanted to hear again as long as he lived._

_"SANDERS!"_

_Slowly he turned coming face to face with Michael Wade. The sandy haired youth smiled sickeningly at him. Greg called out for help but his mouth wouldn't work. He tried to move away from the man but he was paralysed. He watched with horror as he pulled out a knife and without warning thrust it into his stomach. Greg lowered his eyes as his intestines slid out onto the floor, blood running like a river. He slowly turned his head to look at Nick but he was laughing hysterically. Sara was watching impassively from the side. This was wrong. Why was no one helping him? He met Wade's eyes._

_"Its time Sanders."_

Greg woke screaming. It took him a moment to realise he was in his own bed and even longer for his heart to stop pounding. Dragging a shaky hand across his sweaty brow he glanced at his alarm clock. 11:07 am. He hadn't even been asleep for two hours.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to get back off now he kicked his blankets back and headed into the bathroom. It was the same always the same nightmare. It always seemed so real.

Running the tap he splashed some water on his face and leaned against the basin, his shoulder sinking. He needed to get a grip of himself. He needed to move on with his life and forget about Michael Wade. That was easier said than done however. He couldn't stop his subconscious from dreaming about him. This was the lowest he had felt in a while and it disturbed him. He felt like he had got to the top of the hill only to slide back down to the bottom and he what was worse was that Greg knew what had caused him to feel this way. It was the case.

Greg knew why it bothered him so much, he just wished he could get passed it. Wade had left similar messages on his walls. It brought back painful memories of his own past. Memories that he was trying to forget.

Slowly peeling his jogging bottoms off he turned the shower on and stepped under the steaming spray. It was a good twenty minutes later when he realised he had stopped washing and was just letting the water run over him. Wrapping a towel around his waist he trudged into the kitchen and flipped open a bottle of aspirin.

For a moment he stared at the pills and then shook himself, taking two out and chasing them with a glass of water. He needed to sort himself out. He dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans and pulled a snug fitting round neck t-shirt over his head before shrugging his jacket on and grabbing his keys.

He needed to talk to someone. He didn't want to be alone feeling this way. Greg dialled Nick's cell as he swung his car out of the parking garage. After a several rings his drowsy voice answered.

_"…hello?" _

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Greg mentally kicked himself. He should have thought about the time. No doubt Nick had only been asleep for a short time himself.

_"It's ok, what's up?"_ He yawned as he spoke.

"It doesn't matter." Greg muttered, trying to control his own emotions. "I'll talk to you later."

_"Greg…?"_ Nick sounded more alert now. _"What's up man?"_

He paused, half debating telling him it would keep but he needed to speak to someone.

"Can I come up? I need to-"

Greg never got to finish what he was about to say.

Everything began moving in slow motion and as he turned his head he saw a black SUV crushing the passenger side. It was like something out of a movie.

The force of the impact brought everything back to normal speed and with a deafening crash the back end of the car spun out, thrusting the vehicle into the middle of the street. His head cracked, blood splattering, as it hit the driver's side window.

Everything went black.

* * *

The relentless beeping of her alarm clock woke her. Catherine rolled over groaning and hit the snooze button. She wasn't ready to move yet. Her bed was too warm and she was far too cosy. It was almost half an hour later when she finally gathered the strength to drag herself up. Pulling on her robe she wandered down to kitchen and flicked the kettle on, running her fingers through her hair as she waited for it to boil. She glanced up as her daughter walked in yawning.

"Hey kiddo." Catherine smiled as Lindsey sunk down onto the stool at the breakfast bar. "How'd you sleep?"

She shrugged. "Ok."

"You want something to eat?"

Lindsey shook her head. "I'll get something in a bit."

"You got any plans for today?" Catherine asked as the kettle clicked off. Dragging the cupboard open she pulled a mug out and made herself a coffee.

"I was thinking of going to the park, hanging out with some crack addicts... you know? The usual." Lindsey replied with a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice. It was a tone Catherine was getting used to. No one had told her this was part of raising a teenage daughter. She wondered if she had been like this at Lindsey's age and decided she had probably been worse.

"Funny." Catherine shot back with a smirk as she leaned over the counter. "Well if you're not too busy getting high I was thinking me and you could hit the mall today, what do you think?"

Lindsey smiled knowing a trip to the mall equalled new clothes. "Sure."

"Go get ready. We'll set out in a bit."

Lindsey pushed herself to her feet and headed up the stairs. Catherine didn't get to spend as much time as she wanted to with her daughter due to work. She tried to make an effort to do as much as possible with her and a shopping spree seemed like a nice way to spend Wednesday morning.

The mall - as it usually was during spring break - was heaving with kids and parents alike. After an hour the two women were loaded with bags. Despite spending more money than she had intended Catherine didn't regret it. She had to admit Lindsey looked good in the stuff she had bought. Her daughter was just rummaging through a stack of shirts when Catherine's cell rang. She glanced at the caller ID. _Grissom_. She sighed knowing the only reason he would be calling her during the day.

"Willows?"

_"Catherine, it's Grissom." _

"No." She said immediately.

_"You don't even know what I'm going to say."_ He objected.

Catherine moved away from Lindsey. "I know exactly what you're going to ask and the answer is still no. I'm not coming into work. I'm out with Lindsey."

_"I wouldn't normally ask but its Greg. He was in a RTA. I need everyone in to work the scene." _

Catherine paused at that. "Is he hurt?"

"I don't know anything yet. I'm on my way down now."

She sighed, passing a hand over her eyes, knowing Lindsey was going to go mad at her. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Grissom told her the location of the scene and then hung up. Catherine exhaled deeply and walked back over to her daughter. She held up a shirt she was admiring.

"Mom, I so totally have to have this." Catherine winced a little.

"Linds, I'm really sorry but-"

"You have to go into work, don't you?" Lindsey muttered, her tone a mix of anger and frustration. Catherine hated that look she was levelling at her. It made her feel like a bad mother.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. It's an emergency."

"Yeah? It's always an emergency!"

She thrust the shirt at her and stormed out of the shop. Catherine replaced it hastily on the rack before jogging to catch her up. She didn't speak to her all the way back to the parking lot and with a sigh Catherine got into the car. Lindsey merely stared sullenly out of the window.

"Lindsey, I'm sorry."

"You know what mom saying sorry isn't enough. You can't just act like I don't exist and do whatever the hell you want."

"I don't act like you don't exist." Catherine protested, hurt that she thought that. "Baby, the last thing I want to do right now is go into work."

"Then don't go." She snapped.

"I have to." Catherine winced. "I'm so sorry."

"Whatever." Lindsey turned away from her, resuming staring out of the window.

"Linds-"

"Just forget it mom."

Catherine dropped Lindsey off at home. Getting out of the car without a word she slammed the door behind her. Catherine knew she was going to have to walk over broken glass to fix this one. With a deep breath she headed down to the scene, calling Grissom on the way. He hadn't told her much. There had been an accident. Greg was involved but he was ok. She was still worried.

As she pulled up to the site she felt her heart go cold. It was the middle of an intersection. A black SUV had come from the left side of it. The bonnet was dented and crumpled and thick white smoke was billowing from underneath the hood. Several feet from the car, ploughed into a lamp post was Greg's car. She recognized it straight away. The front of it was nearly perpendicular to the windscreen and the passenger side door was caved in. Had Grissom not told her Greg was ok she would have been looking for a body bag.

There were a number of EMTs parked around the scene, their lights flashing, and a couple of squad cars. Catherine jogged over to the police tape, flashing her ID at the uniformed officer and ducked under it. She glanced around and located Grissom talking to a police officer.

"What the hell happened, Gil?" She asked as Grissom wrapped the conversation up and walked over to her, placing his hand on her back as he steered her away from the crowd. "Where's Greg? Is he ok?"

Grissom signalled for her to follow him. He led her over to an EMT on the far side of the scene. As she approached she saw Greg was sat on the steps of the rig, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had blood down his face, coating the neckline of his white t-shirt. A male medic was tending to the wound on his head but Greg wasn't paying any attention. He was staring into space, his expression vacant.

"Greg?" Catherine tried tentatively. At the sound of his name he looked up at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah…" he muttered deadpanned.

"Is he ok?" She turned to the medic realising Greg wasn't going to yield any information. He was probably in shock.

"Apart from the laceration to his head he's fine."

If Catherine hadn't known anything about blood she wouldn't have believed him. Greg was soaked through with it. She knew, however, that cuts on the head always bled excessively. The wound was probably only small.

"Hey, slick?" She bent down to his level, placing a hand on his arm. He turned his head to face her. "What happened?"

"I… I don't know." He rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Try and remember."

He frowned. "I was driving… I was talking… to Nick on my cell…" He looked confused, as if forming words was difficult.

"Greg?" Grissom spoke, studying him carefully. "Did you lose consciousness at any point?"

"I don't know." He blinked a couple of times. "I could have."

Catherine turned to the medic. "Are you taking him in?"

"Yeah, I want a doctor just to check him over." The dark haired medic confirmed.

Greg glanced up at him. "I don't need to go to the hospital."

"You've got a pretty nasty head wound." The medic countered.

"I'll be fine."

"Ok," Catherine began knowing this was going to develop into a debate. "You're going in whether you want to or not. Even if I have to drag you down there myself."

Greg sighed dejectedly, knowing he wasn't going to win this one. "Fine."

Grissom gave her a look. She knew the meaning of it without him speaking any words and moved away from the EMT. He glanced over his shoulder at the young CSI.

"What happened, Gil?" She asked. She wanted to know if Greg was the cause of this.

"The driver of the SUV ran the lights." Catherine sighed with obvious relief.

"Have you started processing?"

"Not yet. I've called Nick and Sara in. Warrick's already here."

Catherine glanced around and for the first time noticed the tall dark haired man was photographing the road on the far side of the scene. Pushing her hair off her face she took a deep breath as the blond haired Sofia Curtis approached.

"Hey guys."

Catherine greeted her with a slight inclination of her head. "How's the driver of the SUV?"

"His name's Robert Hymer. The medics have looked him over but he's got nothing more than a bruised ego. I breathalysed him when I got on scene. He blew at over 2.8."

"Great." Catherine muttered angrily under her breath. "Who gets drunk before lunch?"

"Well Vegas is the party capital." Grissom said.

"2.8? The guy must have been drinking for most of the morning."

"And the rest." Sofia added, her lip curling. "He's wasted. Couldn't even stand straight when the medics pulled him out of the car. I'm taking this guy into the PD. I'll let you when I'm interviewing him, Gil."

"Thanks Sofia."

Catherine watched as she wandered off before turning back to Grissom. "I guess this is pretty cut and dry."

"We'll still need to process the cars. Forget that Greg is involved, we need to treat this like any other case."

"I know. I'll work on Greg's vehicle."

She turned and walked over to the crumpled car, taking a deep breath as she gazed through the open passenger door. The driver side window was cracked, blood smeared onto the glass. She began processing it, her mind half on Greg and half on the argument with Lindsey. Catherine hated that she had left on a bad note. She didn't want tension between them. She hated arguing with her daughter. With a sigh Catherine pulled her camera out and took a couple of shots as Warrick appeared. He leaned on the roof of the car as she straightened up.

"Hey Cath." He let his eyes linger on the blood for a moment before resting her eyes on her. "You ok?"

She must have looked stressed out. Catherine considered telling him but knew work needed to come before the events in her life.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What have you found?"

Warrick gave her a look that indicated he clearly didn't believe her but continued anyway. "The tire tracks confirm that the SUV didn't attempt to break till the last minute."

"What about Greg's car?"

"It looks like he tried to break but the car spun out."

"Well I guess that explains why he ended up wrapped around a post." She sighed again.

"Greg will be ok." Warrick reassured her.

"Yeah I know." Catherine replied.

"So what's _really_ wrong?" She gave him a look, wondering how he always knew when something was wrong with her.

"Me and Linds had a fight." She passed a weary hand over her eyes.

"Teenagers huh?" He smiled faintly.

"I know they're supposed to but sometimes I think I make it a hell of lot easier for her to hate me."

"She doesn't hate you Cath."

Catherine shrugged it off. She couldn't think about this now. Luckily Nick and Sara had both arrived and so she focused on bringing them up to speed on the case. She would sort things out with Lindsey later.

* * *

**A/N** and so it begins... the Greg angst. LOL. I promise I'll go easier on him than I did in the first part! To be fair i'm not sure he can mentally cope with much more!!

Thanks to all you wonderful people who have left comments. Muchos appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

Greg hated hospitals. If he never had to step foot in another one again it would suit him fine. He had sat in a cubicle for the last four hours, had his head scanned, then a moody doctor had cleaned his wound and put a couple of steri-strips over it before kicking him out. Nick was sat in the waiting room, his expression worried. He got to his feet as Greg appeared.

"What did the doc say?"

"I can go home. Just got to take it easy and if I feel sick or dizzy come back in." He grumbled, still annoyed about the whole thing.

"Come on I'll take you home."

The drive back was silent but when they got to Greg's apartment Nick followed him up without an invite. Greg didn't object but he would rather have been on his own. He headed for the fridge, grabbing two sodas and handing one to the Texan before sinking on to the sofa. His car was a write off. It wasn't worth the cost of fixing it. His head was aching as he thought about the cost involved in buying a new one. Nick took a seat next to him.

"You need to talk?"

Greg shifted his shoulders nonchalantly. He had been ready to bare his soul earlier but now in the light of recent events it seemed redundant. Not to mention he didn't have the energy.

Even though Greg knew the driver of the SUV had been drunk he couldn't help but blame himself for the accident. He hadn't been concentrating on the road properly. His mind had been elsewhere. Greg was as guilty as the other guy.

"Greg?"

He lifted his head, shrugging it off. "I'm fine. I just want to sleep before work."

"Didn't Griss give you the night off?"

"Yeah, but we've got a big case on."

"Your suspected serial killer, right?"

"Yeah." Greg stifled a yawn. "Grissom's convinced we have the starting of a sociopathic lunatic."

Nick rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Griss is usually right about these things."

"I know. That's what's worrying me." He rolled his eyes slightly. "It's hardly the best case to be doing my proficiency on."

"You'll be ok. Grissom will help." Nick sighed. "Are you sure you should be going in at all tonight?" he gave Greg a concerned look.

"If I didn't think I should, I wouldn't be going. Besides I can't call in sick. Do you know how much time I've had off in the last five months? Ecklie would love the excuse to fire me."

"You had a car accident. I don't think he's going to fire you for taking time off."

Greg raised his brow but didn't argue it further. He was too tired. He felt drained. It was one thing after another. His head ached with it all.

"What's going to happen to the guy who hit me?" Greg asked finally.

"He's being charged. The guy was wasted."

Exhaling deeply Greg raked his fingers through his hair unsure of how that statement made him feel. He was glad the accident hadn't been his fault but he still felt responsible somehow.

"I know this last year has been hard Greg," Nick began softly, "but you're gonna be ok, you know?"

Greg glanced at him. "Yeah, I know." He said quietly. "I don't think things can get any worse. Well actually they could. Hodges could become supervisor of grave yard." He smiled. Nick gave him a level glare.

"Don't even joke about that."

Greg shrugged. "In this world, anything is possible."

Nick studied him for a moment, half contemplating whether or not he should say anything. Finally he decided he had to, for his own piece of mind if nothing else.

"Greg, sometimes bad things happen to good people – and I'm not talking about Hodges becoming supervisor either – but it's what you do with these things that matters."

"Think strong and I will be strong?" Greg laughed.

"You _are_ strong, Greggo. You've been through more than most people ever go through in a life time and you're still here. You _can_ pick yourself up after this. You just have to want to."

Sighing, Greg nodded. He knew Nick was right but agreeing with advice and being able to take it was completely different.

"I want my life back."

Nick patted him on the shoulder.

"Then take it back. Only you can do it." Getting to his feet, the Texan flashed him a smile. "Besides, who's gonna annoy Grissom with inappropriate humour if you don't?"

Greg laughed again. "Get out of my apartment Stokes."

He showed him to the door but Nick paused before leaving.

"You're a good guy, Sanders. Don't throw everything away just because of this." He lowered his eyes. "Of all the people in the lab, I understand what you're going through the most. I've been there and I know how hard it is to dust yourself off and get on with life but you have to. Otherwise the people who do this crap to us... they win."

There was an awkward silence in which neither men made eye contact. Both were thinking about their own troubled pasts. Eventually Nick shrugged as if trying to push the weight of it all off his shoulders and spoke.

"I'll uh tell Grissom you're not coming in tonight."

Half smiling Greg said goodbye and shut the door behind Nick, his words rolling around his mind. He knew he was right. Greg was the only one who could sort himself out. No one else could do that for him. Yes, he had been through some pretty bad stuff but he was still here, and he was still fighting hard. In the grand scheme of things that counted for something.

Greg wanted to bury his emotions in the deepest darkest hole he could find. He was sick of thinking about his past. He was sick of it affecting his life. He had crashed because he had been upset and he was upset because he was thinking about Michael Wade. Everything came back to him. Everything came back to that night. To that container. To his abduction. To his nearly dying. Greg was pissed off with it all. He just wanted to forget. He wanted to be able to sleep again.

He wandered into the bathroom and grabbed a towel off the rail. Running the tap, Greg splashed water on his face and patted it dry. He was almost grateful he didn't have to work tonight. He wasn't sure he could physically think. His brain felt stuffed full of straw. Everything was fuzzy. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and exhaled deeply, his eyes lingering on the gash to his head.

"Sort yourself out, Sanders." He muttered.

He had a lot going for him. A good job, good friends but his past would never let him rest. Every day was an uphill struggle and he was sick of it. He wanted to be the old Greg. The Greg everyone loved and laughed with. The one who joked and generally acted like an idiot. He realised that Michael Wade had won if he continued on this path of self-destruction. Shaking his head, he refused to let that happen. Greg wanted his life back. He wanted to feel normal again. And no one, not Ecklie, not Grissom, not even Michael Wade was going to stop him. Wandering into the bedroom he undressed and slipped under the covers, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. For the first time in three months he didn't dream.

* * *

Greg went into work an hour early that night. He wanted to catch up on what he had missed in his absence but also he had nothing to do at home. At least in the lab he could do something productive.

Hodges had discovered that the fibre Greg had found by the bedroom window was nylon. It could have come off anything. A sweatshirt, pants, there was a list as long as his arm. It could have belonged to the couple, it could have been the suspects. It didn't help their case at all.

According to Jacqui the prints on the banister were Marcus and Melissa Rowley's. Yet again another dead end. They couldn't link her to the murder from that. It would never stand up in court. After all she lived in that house. Her prints were obviously going to be all over the woodwork. Even worse nothing substantial had been gained from the patio doors either.

The rope had yielded even less. Greg had hoped they would find skin epithelia's or at least a hair stuck in the threading but there was nothing. The suspect had probably worn gloves. He scowled. They were in a rut.

Greg had come to one of the empty rooms and laid the photographs of the scene across the table unsure of what he was hoping to find. It was frustrating.

"You ok?"

He looked up at the familiar voice and forced a smile.

"Yeah. Just looking for a needle in a haystack."

Warrick Brown moved into the room and swept his eyes over the pictures. "Tough break, man. I heard about your case."

"Grissom think we've got the beginnings of a serial."

The tall black man flicked his brow. "And I was just getting used to going home at the end of shift."

Greg sighed deeply leaning his elbows on the table and running his fingers through his hair. "Hopefully this is just another one of Grissom's theories."

"You think he's wrong?"

Greg thought about it for a moment. "No." He admitted. Grissom was never wrong.

Warrick gave him a scrutinizing stare. "You look beat."

"Nah, I'm fine." He sighed again.

"What did Griss say about the case?"

His mind rolled back to the conversation they had had in the corridor two nights ago and suddenly Greg remembered something he had said.

"He said this might not be the first case." Something about that statement stuck in his mind. He couldn't put his finger on it but it was as if the answer sat on the tip of his tongue.

"What are you thinking?" Warrick asked. Greg shook his head. Images, victims, things he had worked on in the lab over the last month collided through his thoughts like a maelstrom. He tried to work through them, to pick something out. Then it hit him.

"You worked on that case with the man beaten to death, didn't you?"

Warrick narrowed his eyes as he tried to recall the details. "James Faulkner." He said finally. "Yeah, why?"

Greg frowned, it was almost there, sitting just out of reach. Dragging his mind back to be he wanted it he began speaking aloud.

"Found in his apartment… COD was blunt force trauma to the head, and massive internal bleeding?"

"Yeah. The guy was a mess." Warrick answered, clearly confused as to where this was going.

"I remember it now. I found traces of stone on his clothing."

"Ok as fun as it is trying to second guess what goes on in that brain of yours, do you want to give me a clue as to where this is going?"

Greg got to his feet, almost jiggling with excitement. "Our second vic, Rowley, was found hanged, the word Judas written on the floor of his bedroom. Grissom said the suspect was probably religious and the crime scene kind of confirms that."

"Second vic?"

"I think the first was James Faulkner."

Warrick frowned at him, clearly not understanding.

"The MO is completely different." Greg grinned.

"Not exactly. We could never explain why James Faulkner had dust and stone particles on him when he was found in his apartment. I think I know why now. I actually can't believe Grissom hasn't picked up on this yet." Greg glanced up catching Warrick's expression. The older man looked frustrated. Greg laughed. "I think your victim was stoned to death."

Warrick snorted sceptically. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." Greg said, a little affronted. "It's a little prehistoric but I guess it's a means to an end."

"Even if he was stoned to death, that doesn't link him to your hanging."

"Ah but it does. Martyrs." He said as if that explained everything. Warrick looked even more baffled. "Didn't you study any European history or religion in school?" Greg demanded.

"Sure, but are you saying this guy was martyred? And even if that is the case Judas was a suicide, not martyrdom."

Greg paused. "True but maybe it's more about the religious side of it. Christian history so to speak."

"Yeah but we didn't find anything written on the floor."

"But you weren't looking for it. I only found this by…" He broke off before he said accident. "Well, either way I think we could be onto something here."

Warrick dropped his eyes to photographs.

"I guess there's only one way to find out."

Greg nodded. "Go back to Faulkner's apartment."

* * *

Greg and Warrick had gathered the information they needed and headed to Grissom's office to reiterate Greg's theory. The entomologist had listened with an impassive expression until he finished.

"It's a different MO." Grissom said finally. Greg resisted rolling his eyes, wondering why none of them could see what was so blatently clear to him.

"It's different but its not. Back in the middle ages Christians were persecuted for their beliefs. I mean these guys were killed in some pretty horrible ways. Stoning, beheading, crucifixion… if the suspect is following a religious theme then stoning would fit in. I found a number of saints who were martyred in this way."

Grissom didn't look wholly convinced and so Warrick jumped in. "I gotta say at first I though he was crazy."

"Thanks." Greg said muttered sourly under his breath.

"But I don't know, I think there might be something in this. They both follow a religious theme. It's worth looking into at least, just to rule it out."

The supervisor nodded. "I'll get you the necessary paper work."

Greg had no idea whose arm Grissom had had to bend to get that warrant, the case wasn't exactly cut in stone and the DA liked to work on fact not hunches but within the hour Warrick and Greg were heading out to James Faulkner's apartment. Pulling up outside the complex Greg glanced around. It was just after ten pm and the street lights were casting an eerie orange glow over the road.

"You're sure the apartment is empty?" Greg asked, not relishing the thought of barging in on someone sleeping.

"Yeah, definitely. The landlord said he'd meet us down here with the keys. He wasn't too happy about it. Well we're not paid to make people happy." Warrick added.

"And here was me thinking that the LVPD was all about spreading the love."

Warrick shook his head laughing a little. "Who told you that?"

"Ecklie… right before he threatened me with my pink slip if I didn't get my ass into a gear higher than first."

"Yeah, well Ecklie's an idiot. Cant believe he's making you redo your proficiency."

"I suppose that's the thanks you get for getting beaten to crap on duty." Greg grumbled.

"Here he is."

Their conversation abruptly came to a halt as a car pulled up at the side of the road. A small bespectacled man stepped out of the vehicle, his expression was murderous.

"Someone is pissed with you." Greg noted, folding his arms over his chest.

"Story of my life." Warrick muttered, arranging a smile as the man approached. "Mr Langdon?" Warrick greeted him. "I'm Warrick Brown, this is Greg Sanders. We're from the Las Vegas crime lab."

"Is this what the Las Vegas crime lab does? Terrorises people at ridiculous hours of the night?" he snapped.

"Sir, I'm sorry its late but-"

"You're not sorry at all! Do you know how much of an inconvenience this is? It's bad enough I cant rent this place out anymore - I mean who wants to live where someone was murdered - but now I've got to explain to my other tenants why the LVPD were up here after hours!" He ranted incessantly, dragging his fingers through his dark hair, "You people are ruining my livelihood."

"Mr Lyndon, we'll be as quick as we can. We just need to have another look around." Greg tried to be as placating as possible but the man still continued to scowl.

"Come on then." He growled, storming over to the apartment in question.

Greg cast a glance at Warrick who merely raised his brow before following the little man. Fumbling with a huge set of keys he finally located the correct one and shoved it into the lock.

"Has anyone been in the apartment since the murder?" Warrick asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Mr Lyndon snapped. "I can't even get people to the front door!" He pushed the door open and slid the key off the ring, thrusting it into Warrick's hand.

"I'll get this back to you as soon as we're done." Warrick assure him but the man snorted and muttered something obscene under his breath before walking back to his car. Warrick inhaled deeply.

"Whatever happened to manners?"

"They died around the same time as chivalry." Greg told him with a slight smirk, and held the door open for him. "After you."

Warrick rolled his eyes but stepped into the apartment. Greg followed behind him and wrinkled his nose. It smelt musty and damp. It had obviously not been aired since the murder. The furniture was all still in place and Greg realised it was probably rented with it. _It would have to be_, he thought. This was the dankest place Greg had ever been. The walls were painted in a dirty green colour and the carpet had definitely seen better days. Greg switched his flashlight on and began examining the scene.

"Any idea what we're looking for?" Warrick asked following suit.

"Not a clue but when I find it I'll let you know."

For a full hour they searched every inch of the apartment, pulling all the furniture out but they didn't find anything. Greg dragged his arm across his sweaty forehead, breathing heavily. He was hot and bothered and more than frustrated. Warrick dropped his hands to his hips.

"I guess your theory was wrong, Greggo."

He shook his head. He was so sure this was linked to the other crime. He knew the answer was here somewhere. He just had to find it.

"Have you got an ALS with you?" Greg asked suddenly.

Warrick turned to his case and pulled the requested equipment out, handing it to the younger CSI. Greg flicked it on, the luminous blue light casting a cold tinge to the room. Both men pulled on a pair of orange specs as Greg began meticulously scanning the floor.

"I hope your feeling strong." Greg muttered. "We're going to have to move the furniture again."

"I don't think so."

Greg stopped what he was doing and glanced up at him. He was about to level a few choice words at Warrick but catching his line of sight he moved his gaze. Walking toward the wall were he was looking Greg lifted the ALS.

Scored into the wallpaper was the word SCUM. It must have been written in blood and then washed off but the ALS could pick it up even despite that.

"I guess this is what humble pie tastes like." Warrick said softly, taking the orange glasses off.

"Yeah," Greg turned to him grinning. "And it tastes good."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** I know some people have had a problem reading the last couple of chapters. I think FanFiction had a bit of a hissy fit. Damn technology! I think its working now so sorry bout that.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last couple of chapters. Muchos appreciated.

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**Chapter Six**

Greg woke early on Friday morning. He had rescheduled his penultimate therapy session for noon but he didn't relish the thought of going. The whole thing was a waste of time. Greg briefly considered not going but that would have just caused more problems. No doubt Dr Cleveland would have been straight on the phone to Ecklie. Greg didn't want to get fired. Not today. He had enough crap to deal with as it was.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and t-shirt he ran a comb through his hair, careful to avoid his cut. It was getting long now. Greg had purposely tried to smarten his image since making CSI, but he did miss having shorter hair. It was easier to style. Flattening it as much as he could, he brushed his teeth and headed out of his apartment.

He arrived at Dr Cleveland's office early and spent a nervous ten minutes flicking absently through the stack of magazines on the low table in the middle of the room. When he was told by the receptionist he could go in Greg sighed and got to his feet entering the consultation room.

Dr Cleveland was sat in the familiar chair, a folder on her lap. She glanced up at him as he entered, and frowned at him.

"What happened to your head?"

Greg's hand moved to the wound of its own accord.

"Car accident." He explained.

Raising her brow she signalled for him to take a seat. Greg complied, leaning back into the chair.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Dr Cleveland asked.

"Not really."

"Greg, how am I supposed to help you if you won't talk to me?"

He sighed deeply, frustration and irritation clear in that one sound. "I was hit by a drunk driver."

"Ok," She scrawled something onto his notes, "and when was this?"

"Wednesday."

"A physician cleared you?"

"Yep. I'm fine. Just a cut on my head. Nothing too serious." Greg was going through the motions but he didn't care. He really did not want to do this. As if sensing his reluctance the auburn haired Dr Cleveland shifted in her seat slightly.

"Greg? Talk to me."

He levelled a look at her. "About what? This is such a waste of my time as well as yours."

"I'm not here to have a go at you, or make you feel bad about things, Greg. I just want to help."

"I know." He said quietly.

"So talk to me. Tell me what's going on with you."

He stared at the floor for a moment.

"I'm fine." Dr Cleveland gave him a sceptical look that made him laugh. "Ok, well maybe not fine but I'm getting there."

"That's good. How's work?"

"Fine." She raised her brow at him and he shrugged. "It really is fine."

Before Greg knew where he was Dr Cleveland had him delving into emotions he didn't know he had. It was as eye opening for him as it was for her. He tried to move the converstation away from his personal life but somehow she kept bringing it back to that topic. Finally Greg opened up.

"I get up, go to work, come home, sleep, go back to work. I never thought about it much before my…" He trailed off, not wanting to talk about his abduction.

"You feel unfulfilled?" she asked.

"No. I love my job. More than you could ever imagine. I think being at work is the only time I'm truly happy."

"But?"

He gave her a small smile. "Why do you think there is a but?"

"Because there always is."

"I didn't have you down as a cynic." Greg said. "But, yes, there is a but. Since my abduction even going to work is hard. People are constantly asking me if I'm ok. Looking at me as if I'm going to break and to make matters worse Ecklie wants me to redo my proficiency test to make sure my brain is still in my head."

"How does that make you feel?" She asked, scrawling something in his notes. He shifted uncomfortably. He hated when she did that.

"Angry I guess. It took a lot of hard work to make CSI. I feel like I'm being punished for something I had no control over."

"So when do you start your proficiency test?"

"I've started it. Was out in the field Tuesday. Didn't want to be but how can you turn round to the person who can give you your pink slip and say no?"

"You're out in the field?" Dr Cleveland demanded.

"Yeah. I mean, it was hard, weird even, but its fine."

"You're suffering with post traumatic stress, and your boss puts you in the field before you've completed your therapy?" Her tone was incredulous.

"Yes." Greg was baffled by her reaction. "It's not a problem. I thought it might have been but truthfully once I got over the initial shock of being back out there it was actually helpful in a strange way. I found vital evidence to our case. It made me feel… useful again. There is very little credit for what you do in the lab. In the field it's different. You're the first port of call. You can make a difference. Give a family closure. It's more rewarding."

Dr Cleveland clearly wasn't happy about his revelation but she did seem slightly placated by the fact he felt good.

"So if your job's not the problem, what is it about your life that is troubling you?"

"The rest of it."

"By which you mean?"

"Friends. Family. Relationships. The daily grind. All of it."

"How do you mean?"

"Lately I'm… angry… a lot of the time and when I'm not angry I feel so low that scraping my self off the ground is becoming a regular occurrence. I snap at my friends. I don't call my mom back when she phones. I have no escape from work. My life revolves around the Crime Lab."

"Join a club." She suggested. Greg laughed loudly at that.

"I work most nights and quite a lot of mornings as well, I've been known to do seventeen hour shifts. We all do. The majority of time I don't have enough time to sleep and eat let alone make friends. It's sad but therapy is the only thing I have outside of work right now."

"Does this upset you?"

Greg shrugged. "Do you have siblings, Dr Cleveland?" She frowned, clearly wondering where he was going with this.

"A brother and a sister." He nodded.

"I'm an only child. When you're an only child you make a huge effort with friends. You have to. There is no one else. I'm used to having a wide circle of friends. I've lost that lately."

"Do you regret your life choices?"

"You mean do I regret becoming a CSI?"

"Yes." Greg thought about it for a moment and then shook his head.

"No. Never. I wish I could have both but my work is too time consuming. How can you have friends when you don't know what your next shift will bring? Have dates? Hold down a relationship? Your hours are as long as your next case."

"You want a relationship?"

Greg felt his cheeks flame and wondered how the conversation had come to this point.

"Doesn't everyone? It's human nature to want love. I come home after my shift to an empty apartment. It would be nice to have someone there."

She gave him a knowing smile and then glanced at her watch. "That's our time for today."

Greg got quickly to his feet and left, wondering where in the hell all of that had come from. He scowled. Greg would be glad when these sessions were over and done with. Despite his irritation however Greg realised Dr Cleveland had got to the heart of the matter. He was lonely. Scowling again he got into his car and drove home, cursing her name.

* * *

The grave yard shift on Friday night had been slow. Two db's, one case solved, the other close to breaking. Warrick and Greg had spent all evening running around, chasing a lead on the hanging case from a couple of nights ago whilst Nick and Sara had headed up to a scene off the strip. The lab was unusually quiet. 

Catherine used the opportunity to catch up on some paper work and go over a couple of cases she hadn't yet cracked. Despite her exhaustion by 8am she was almost reluctant to go home. She had tried to talk to Lindsey after their argument but the teenager wouldn't relent. Catherine made up her mind that she would try again today. She didn't relish that conversation. Lindsey was as stubborn as she was.

She got home, dumped her stuff and headed to bed. Lindsey had stayed at a friend's last night and so she didn't have to do her usual routine of making her daughter breakfast. Catherine was grateful. She was exhausted.

It was just after 1pm when the blonde CSI awoke. She showered and dressed before making herself some food. She knocked on Lindsey's door but there was no response. The teenager should have been home by now. Pushing it open she found her bedroom empty. Scowling Catherine headed into the kitchen and dialled Lindsey's cell. It went through to voicemail.

"Linds, its mom. Give me a call when you get this message."

By five o'clock Saturday evening there was still no sign of Lindsey. Catherine was pissed by this point. No matter how annoyed her daughter was with her they always ate dinner together before Catherine had to go to work. She called her cell for the hundredth time but got her machine again. Pulling out her address book, Catherine dialled Jayne's mom, Sherry. Lindsey had been staying at house last night.

_"Hello?" _Sherry's familiar voice spoke down the phone.

"Hey Sherry, it's Catherine."

_"Hey Cath, how's things?" _

"Fine." Catherine said, pacing the room with short steps. "Is Lindsey still at yours?"

Sherry went silent. _"She hasn't been here." _

Catherine paused, frowning deeply. Lindsey had definitely said she was staying at Sherry's. Catherine had dropped her off outside the house herself.

"She stayed with you last night." Catherine insisted, a knot forming in her stomach.

_"Jayne was at her dad's last night."_ Sherry said by way of explanation. Catherine rubbed a weary hand over her eyes.

"Ok, thanks. If she turns up at yours will you give me a call?"

_"Of course." _

Catherine hung up and rolled her eyes. Her daughter had lied to her. Wondering where the hell she had gone, she flicked through her diary. After the sixth call to Lindsey's friends she was getting worried. No one had seen her. She tried her daughter's cell phone again but got no answer. By the time Catherine had called every number in her phone book she was nearly hysterical. Lindsey hadn't gone to Jayne's house. None of her friends knew where she was and her cell was off. Thinking worst case scenarios she dialled the PD.

_"Las Vegas Police Department, how can I help?" _

"Hey Rosie." Catherine said recognizing the voice. "It's Catherine Willows. Is Brass or Sofia about?"

"_Captain Brass isn't on till this evening. Sofia Curtis is out on a case."_

"Damn it." She muttered.

_"How do you want me to direct your call, Cath?" _

"Get Brass in. My daughter… I think she's missing."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** Two chapters in one day, lucky you!!! Just a slight warning that this chapter is a little brutal and slightly graphic but I'm sure you guys can take it! Its not overly disturbing. In fact its not really that bad at all.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter(s). I know I say this every time but I do apprieciate (i can never spell that word) your thoughts/feelings/random ramblings :D hope you like this one. Sorry its a bit of a cliffy... actually I'm not. I love cliff hangers. ENJOY!

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**Chapter Seven **

They had all been called into the lab that evening. It was six thirty by the time everyone arrived. Catherine was sat in the corner, chewing on her nails, rocking ever so slightly back and forth. Lindsey had been missing for just under twenty four hours now and the tension in the room was unbearable.

Greg glanced around at his co-workers worried expressions and felt a pang of fear himself. Lindsey was a good kid. If anything had happened to her… it didn't bear thinking about. The entire team sat in silence. No jokes, none of the usual banter, just stillness. Catherine herself was doing her best to hold it together and Greg was astounded at how calm she actually was. He felt close to melt down himself. Lindsey was just a kid and in Vegas there was a lot that could happen to someone as young as her.

He shuddered involuntarily and cast his eyes at Nick and Sara. Both of them were staring into space, both lost in their own thoughts. Grissom was also subdued but Greg knew the older man's mind was probably going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out what had happened to the teenager. Warrick was the last to arrive. He walked straight over to Catherine and wrapped his arms around her. The blonde woman didn't put up any objection and hugged him back, tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here." Warrick murmured the apology. "Traffic was hell."

Brass slipped back into the room causing everyone to look up and Warrick to release his grip on the blonde haired woman.

"I've put an amber alert out. It should be broadcasting shortly."

Catherine nodded numbly. She could never explain how she felt sitting in the break room, listening to Brass' words. _Amber alert_. For Lindsey. They had an _amber alert_ on _her_ daughter. Abduction cases were always difficult for everyone. Children were innocent, young, at the beginning of their lives but knowing it was her own daughter they were looking for hit her hard.

She had carried Lindsey for nine months. Watched her grow up, take her first steps, cut her first tooth, bring her first report card home, go to high school… it was too much. It was as if Catherine's heart had been ripped out. She felt numb. Terrified. She feared the worst. In all her years as a CSI she had seen the worst. She just prayed to God that she wouldn't be processing her own daughter's body.

As the tears rolled down her cheeks Catherine did nothing to stop them. She had worked enough missing kid's cases to know that the first five hours were crucial. Lindsey had been missing for much longer than that. She had already got into her head that her daughter was lying in a ditch somewhere. Even worse was that Catherine hadn't even known she was missing till this evening. She felt like a terrible mother. She was sure everyone was judging her.

"We'll find her Cath." Warrick said quietly.

"We should be out there looking." Her voice was strained, but it broke between the sobs.

"We will, Catherine." Brass assured her. "We just need to find a starting point first. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"She was supposed to be staying at Jayne's." Catherine mumbled through her tears. "I dropped her off there last night."

"What time was that at?"

"Uh… about seven." She was still trying to comprehend that Lindsey was missing. It felt surreal talking about her daughter being missing. She tried to remember the last thing she had said to her and realised Lindsey had left on an argument. The guilt of that ate at her like a cancer, invading her thoughts painfully.

"Did you see her go in?"

Catherine shook her head. "She waved to me from the doorstep. God this is all my fault! What if someone has picked her up? What if something's happened to her?"

Warrick rubbed her arm. "You know what kids her age are like. She's probably gone to a friend's, and forgotten the time, Cath."

"I've called all of her friends. She's not with any of them."

"Is she involved in any clubs or groups?" Brass asked.

"She dances on a Wednesday night. That's it."

Silence settled over the room again. Greg stole a glanced at the blonde woman and wished there was something he could say that would help. Catherine was trembling, her eyes staring into space, worry etched onto every inch of her face. He tried to imagine where Lindsey would have gone, hoping that she had simply took off and nothing untoward had happened to her. It wasn't the first time Lindsey had gone missing and last time had ended well enough. Greg prayed this time would be the same. He hoped the teenager would see the amber alert and come home with her tail between her legs. The alternative was unthinkable.

"Ok," Grissom said finally. "Sara and Greg, I want you two to talk to Lindsey's friends. Nick, you and Adrienne go up to Catherine's house, see if you can find anything there. Warrick, you and I will go to Jayne's house."

"What about me?" Catherine demanded, her voice a little stronger.

"Catherine-" Grissom began but she cut him off.

"I'm not staying out of this, Gil, she's my daughter!"

"I don't expect you to." Grissom said softly.

"Good." Catherine said, meeting his eyes before handing her house keys to Nick and passing her phone book to Sara. "let's get moving then."

The team all jumped up at her command.

Greg and Sara headed up to one of the empty labs and immediately opened the phone book. Greg sank down on a stool and brushed his fingers through his hair. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Neither one of them had anything to say. They had both watched Lindsey grow up over the years. They all cared for the teenage girl and now she was missing. Possibly abducted. That word sent a chill so violent through Greg that he physically shuddered. He hoped Lindsey would never have to go through what he suffered.

"Are you ok?" Sara asked, her forehead wrinkling.

"I just want to find Lindsey."

Sara gave him a small smile. She wanted to find Catherine's daughter too.

"Where do you want to start?" Greg asked. Sara dropped her eyes to the address book, flicking through the pages.

"Well Catherine has highlighted the addresses of Lindsey's friends. There's a couple that live within a block of one another. I say we start with those first and then fan out from that point."

Greg got to his feet nodding. It was as good a plan as any other. He didn't think they would learn much from Lindsey's friends but even the smallest piece of information could bring a lead. That was all they needed right now: a lead. They had nothing to go on at the moment and that was frustrating. Both Sara and Greg were stopped in the corridor as Judy, the frizzy red head, receptionist, hurried over to them.

"Just had a call in. there's a 419 in Henderson."

"Swings are still here aren't they? Send one of them up." Sara told her.

"I would but the detective asked specifically for Greg or Dr Grissom."

Greg pulled a face wondering why he would have been asked for. He took the phone message Judy had taken off her and read through it, his jaw setting tightly.

"Greg," Sara pressed. "We don't have time for this. Swing shift can handle it."

He shook his head. "It's my case."

She gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"The hanging case me and Grissom were working on. This looks like a third vic."

Sara looked torn. Technically Greg and Grissom should work the scene – it _was_ their case - but with Lindsey being missing…

"I'll call Grissom." Sara said finally. They couldn't ignore a homicide, even in the light of recent events.

"No, don't bother." Greg replied, his eyes still on the message. "Catherine needs him more at the moment. I can handle this. You go up and start on Lindsey's friends. I'll head up to this and join you when I'm done."

"Greg, you can't go to a scene on your own."

He was mildly amused at her protest. "Sara, I've been to plenty of scenes by myself. I don't need my hand holding."

"You're redoing your proficiency." She reminded him. "You're supposed to be supervised."

Greg scowled, cursing Ecklie's name. He had forgotten about that. "I'll see if I can find someone from swing to come with me then."

"I'll let Grissom know."

He nodded heading up to the labs to see who was lurking about. He was more than pissed that he was having to find someone to come with him. Greg should have been able to go to this scene alone. Ecklie had made their jobs all that little more difficult tonight and it was annoying. He finally located Jack Robinson in the Trace lab with Hodges. Both men glanced up as he entered.

"I thought everyone had gone home or was on a case." Greg said with some relief at finding someone from swing. He was anxious to get the scene processed and get back to finding Lindsey. Jack shook his head.

"I heard about Cath's kid. Said I'll stay and help once swing finishes."

Jack Robinson was a level three CSI. He had transferred in from San Francisco after Greg's stabbing to help out in the second busiest crime lab in the country. He had just sort of stuck around since and he was good at his job so Ecklie hadnt really protested all that much.

Jack was in his early thirties – or so Greg thought – and he had thick black curl hair. His moving to the swing shift hadn't mellowed him considerably. He still thought he was Grissom at times but Greg didn't care. At the moment he just needed someone to sign off on his work. Normally he would have just gone on his own. It was frustrating that he couldn't.

"You busy?" Greg asked. Jack shook his head.

"You need something?"

"Me and Grissom have been working a case. A 419 has just come in that I think might be linked to it. Normally I would go on my own but-"

"Mr Proficiency needs a babysitter." Hodges interrupted. Greg gave him a sour look but continued talking to Jack. He didn't need Hodges to point out the obvious.

"Everyone else is out working on finding Lindsey." Greg explained.

Jack nodded. "I'll just get my stuff."

Within ten minutes they were on their way. Greg was more than resentful that he was having to bring Jack along with him but then he reasoned that as long as the scene was processed it didn't matter.

They pulled up outside a warehouse complex and got out of the car. Greg shrugged into his black CSI vest and grabbed his case, following Jack over to the officer who was stood at the front door. He recognised Detective Vega immediately.

"I hope you guys have got a strong stomach." Vega said as way of greeting. Greg glanced over his shoulder and saw a uniformed office throwing up. He inwardly cringed knowing this was going to be bad.

"What have we got?" Jack asked, doing his best to ignore the sound of retching. It wasn't easy. Greg himself was trying to concentrate on Vega.

"Female. The warehouse staff found her earlier, called it in."

"No ID?"

Vega cringed. "If you find her head maybe."

Greg felt a wave of nausea as his brain realised what he had just said. "She was decapitated?" he demanded incredulously.

The detective nodded, turning his attention to Greg. "The scene is a mess." Vega pulled a face. "Do you mind if I sit this one out? I've seen enough of that girl to fill a lifetime of nightmares."

"Sure." Jack said, sounding somewhat disturbed "We'll let you know if we need anything."

Greg glanced at Jack and noticed his hesitance to enter the building. He didn't blame him, he was wishing he hadn't agreed to come down here himself. Greg had seen some fairly brutal murders in his time as a CSI but full decapitation didn't fill him with joy. Mentally he tried to prepare himself for what he was going to see but he knew nothing ever could. There were something's that you could never prepare for.

Taking a deep breath the two CSI's pulled on their protective shoes in silence and stepped into the warehouse, switching their flashlights on. Greg almost threw up himself as his eyes roved around the scene. He had never seen so much blood in his life. It was sprayed up the corrugated walls, and pooled on the floor near the body. It was like something out of the Texas chainsaw massacre. Fighting with his own stomach he moved over to examine the victim. He tried not to stare but he couldn't help it. It was like watching a speeding train derail. He wanted to pull his eyes away and not look but his body refused to do so.

Pushing his own emotions aside he swept the light over the corpse, trying to be professional and hold it together. She was definitely female. Probably fairly young judging by her clothes. Swallowing hard Greg moved to examine the neck area and almost retched. Her head had been cleanly removed from her shoulders. It was the most surreal thing Greg had ever seen.

He turned his attention to the floor, unable to look at the body any longer and saw the word WHORE written in what looked like blood. Greg exhaled deeply.

"This the same as your other cases, Sanders?" Jack asked quietly.

Greg nodded, focusing his attention on Jack. He could still see the body out of the corner of his eye but it was better than looking directly at it.

"Only this is more… obvious. The other messages were well hidden. The first was written in blood and washed off. It took an ALS to find it. The second under a bed. This is in plain sight."

"Your killer's getting cocky." Jack noted.

"Mmmhm." Greg murmured, reluctantly getting his camera out. He knew if he didn't move now he never would. He had to process the scene and try and take his own feelings out of the equation. That was easier said than done however.

Concentrating on the blood rather than the body he pulled out a stack of markers from his case and began photographing each splatter, placing a new marker at each one. He had got up to thirteen why he noticed something. Moving closer he bent down and studied it. It was a gold chain, on it were the initials AMDS. Frowning he picked it up with his tweezers.

"Any idea what AMDS is?"

Jack answered without missing a beat.

" Amelia Morison Dance School." Greg quirked his brow at him. "I have a ten year old kid, Greg. She into all that prancing about."

"Ok, tinkerbell." The younger man tried to grin, hoping to inject some levity into the situation but he couldn't. sighing he spoke again. "How old do you have to be to enrol in this school?"

"Between twelve and seventeen. But they do have a class for older kids."

Greg frowned. "Catherine's daughter attends dance school on a Wednesday." He wondered if it was the same one.

Jack gave him a surprised look that faded into disgust as he glanced at the corpse. "You don't think this is-"

Greg didn't trust himself to speak. He didn't know what to say. He puffed his cheeks out as he took a small breath. Lindsey had been missing for over twenty four hours. She had intended on going to a friend's house, never made it and then a female body turns up that night. Greg really hoped it wasn't her but the odds were stacked against them.

Staring at the body he realised there was a real possibility it could be. She was young, female, attended dance school. Greg had never wanted to find a decapitated head as much as he did in that moment. Greg knew he could identify Lindsey by sight. Without the head they would have to rely on DNA and that took time. Time that they didn't have.

"We should phone Grissom." Greg mumbled, wondering how to start that conversation. It wasn't every day that you had to tell your boss that you suspected a decapitated corpse was the body of your co-worker's daughter.

"Wait till we have an ID, Greg. Catherine doesn't need to this on top of everything else."

A new voice greeted them and both Jack and Greg glanced up to see David Philips entering the warehouse.

"Sorry, I got here as soon as I could." David dropped his eyes to the body. "Jesus."

No one said a word as David crouched down, sticking the thermometer into the body. Greg winced at the action he had seen performed so many times. It seemed so much more personal tonight. David studied the reading for a moment before speaking.

"From the liver temp I'd say she's been dead twelve hours." The coroner informed them.

Greg grimaced. He had been hoping the victim had been dead longer than the twenty four period in which Lindsey had been missing.

"Have you found the head?" David asked roving his eyes around the scene. Greg merely shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. "You want to scrape the nails here or back at the morgue?"

Greg snapped his attention back to the coroner.

"Uh…" He glanced at the body, knowing it could be Lindsey. He didn't want to touch it. It was too weird thinking it could be someone he knew. Eventually Jack moved and did it. Greg was grateful that he had. David cast his eyes between them both.

"Are two ok?"

"Yeah."

Greg forced a smile hoping it was reassuring. From David's expression it obviously was anything but. Jack caught Greg's eye. He looked saddened. Greg himself was feeling queasy. More than queasy in fact, he felt dizzy with it all. He needed to know if the body was Lindsey. More importantly he needed to get out of the warehouse. He couldn't cope with being this close to the body.

"Jack," Greg began, "do you think you can finish up here? I'll go back with David and run the DNA on the victim. See if we can get a match."

David was puzzled. Usually Greg would have stayed and worked the scene, this seemed completely out of character. But Jack understood Greg's reasoning. He wanted to rule the body out as Lindsey before Catherine got wind of it. Jack nodded.

"Go. I'll find you when I get back."

Greg got a ride back to the lab with David and followed him down to the morgue. The body was barely unwrapped from the black bag when Greg began taking his samples. Armed with what he needed, he hurried up to the lab, finding it empty. He wandered over to the scope and pulled out the equipment he needed as Mandy Webster entered.

"You're out in the field for a less than a week and your already skulking back to the lab. What gives, Sanders?" She smiled as she sank down on the stool opposite him.

"No one was here." Greg said by way of explanation.

He liked Mandy. She had the same frivolous humour as Greg and was always quick with a joke or smile. He found her easy to work with and although he didn't really feel like talking tonight he was almost glad of her company. It was a hint of normality in an abnormal night.

"You're messing in Mia's domain."

I just need to borrow the scope for a min." He muttered almost apologetically. She shrugged.

"Knock yourself out, man. It's not me you'll have to explain it to." Mandy smiled, her eyes resting on the gash to his head. "Although I heard you did that the other day when you took on an SUV. What is it with you and trouble?"

"I have no idea." He murmured. "It follows me like a lost puppy."

"Nick told me they arrested the ass who caused the crash."

"Yeah." Greg didn't particularly want to talk about his accident but sensed Mandy wasn't going to let up easily so continued. "They got enough to get him for DUI and driving without due care."

He began processing the epithelia's he had collected but after a moment he raised his eyes, realising Mandy was still watching him.

"Are you going to sit there whilst I'm doing this? Don't you have prints or something to do?"

"Got nothing till everyone gets back."

Greg handed her a print card. "You can run that for me."

She jumped off the stool and took it from him, studying it for a moment. "Is this from Catherine's house?" Mandy asked quietly.

"No. It's from another scene." Greg said, hoping none of this would come back to Lindsey. "When you get the results bring them straight to me, ok? No one else."

If she was confused by his request she didn't show it. Greg watched her leave the DNA lab and went back to his own task, his mind rolling.

Once he had extracted what he needed from the sample he moved over to the computer and pulled up Catherine Willows file. Lindsey wasn't in CODIS but he would be able to match her DNA to her mothers. He printed out the sheet whilst he waited for the beheaded victim's to run through the machine. He prayed to god that it wasn't Lindsey.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight **

Nick had been to Catherine's house on numerous occasions for BBQs, birthday parties, even a new years bash a couple of years back but it felt weird being there in a professional capacity. Unlocking the front door he pushed it open and stepped into the darkened hallway. Pulling his flashing out his eyes roved around the portraits hanging on the walls. Most were of Lindsey but a few had both her and Catherine on. They looked so happy. Contented. It didn't seem fair that this was happened to either of them. Nick pulled his gaze from them and glanced over his shoulder as Adrienne West appeared behind him, shutting the door softly.

"This feels… odd." She murmured.

Nick didn't respond immediately. He wasn't sure he could process a friend's house. Struggling with his own emotions he shook himself. He needed to keep it together. Anything they found here could help them find Lindsey and at the moment that was the most important thing.

"I'll start on Lindsey's room." Nick said finally. "Maybe she left evidence of where she's gone."

Adrienne drew her brow together. "You think Lindsey ran away?"

He arranged a small smile. "I hope so."

She didn't respond to that. Clearly Adrienne didn't believe that any more than Nick did but he couldn't bring himself to think of the alternative. He had worked with Catherine for such a long time now that he considered her his family. In fact he viewed the whole grave yard shift that way. Anything that happened to one of them affected the Texan deeply. Nick felt their pain as if it was happening to him. Sometimes he wished he could detach himself from people and not take everyone else's problems on as his own. It would make his life a lot easier.

"Do you want me to process downstairs?" Adrienne asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Nick nodded and made his way over to the stairs, heading up them. Lindsey's bedroom lay at the end of the landing. He pulled on a pair of gloves before pushing the door open and stepping in.

It was a typical teenage girl's room. The bed came out into the centre and aside from a nightstand and a chest of drawers the only other furniture was a desk and small bookcase. It was filled mainly with DVDs and CDs but the bottom shelf held some general fiction books as well as a couple of textbooks. Plastered on the walls were posters of various bands, photographs of Lindsey with friends, and a handful of certificates for dancing and performing arts.

On the desk was a PC, hooked up to the largest speakers Nick had ever seen. No doubt Lindsey drove Catherine mad with them he thought with a slight smile. He guessed they went pretty loud. He moved over to the computer and tapped the space bar. It made a whirring sound and after a moment the screen came on, lighting the room. Locating her email box he double clicked the icon on the desktop and waited for it to load up. Nick spent a couple of minutes scanning through her inbox but didn't find anything out of the ordinary. With a sigh he began on her drawers next.

It felt wrong rifling through Lindsey's things but Nick kept firmly in his mind that he was trying to help her. As he stood to move, his search of the drawers completed, he accidentally knocked a book off the top of the sideboard. Bending down to recover it he noticed something stuck in the middles of it. Flicking through it he opened the book half way through to reveal a photograph. It was a picture of Lindsey with a dark haired man. He looked to be in his mid twenties and had his arm draped over her shoulders. Nick had never seen the man before but from the way the pair of them were smiling it was obvious they knew one another well. More than puzzled as to why this photograph was in the book and not on the wall with the others Nick surmised quickly that Lindsey didn't want Catherine to see it. All children had secrets from their parents, even at his age he kept things from his mother and father, but the picture intrigued him. He pulled out an evidence bag and slipped it, hoping he could identify the man back at the lab.

* * *

Sara had spent the last hour trailing around Vegas looking up Lindsey's friends. She hadn't discovered anything of use in that time. No one had seen her. They didn't know anywhere Lindsey might have gone and no one knew of any friends she had outside of their close knit circle. It was a dead end.

Frustrated she headed back to the lab and made her way up to the AV suite. Archie, the dark haired tech, glanced up as she stepped in and gave her a half smile.

"I ran Lindsey's phone records." He began with no greeting. There was no time for the usual pleasantries and banter. Everyone just wanted to find Catherine's daughter.

"Any luck?"

He frowned a little. "Some." He replied, pushing the paper at her. Sara lowered her eyes and took in the information with a brief sweeping of her eyes.

"Her last call was made at five past seven." Archie explained. "It lasted approximately twenty six seconds to this number here."

Archie pointed at the number at the top of the sheet. Sara noted that it was a cell number. As she dropped her eyes further down the paper she realised that calls to and from that number had occurred regularly over the last month or so.

"Any idea who this number belongs to?" Sara asked. He shook his head.

"I've run the number against all the ones in Cath's phone book but come up with nothing so far, so I rang the phone company to see if they have a record of who owns this number. I'm just waiting for them to get back to me." Archie told her. "Hopefully the number isn't for a disposable phone. If it is we're at a dead end."

Sara pulled a face. Disposable phones were the bane of all existence. Trying to discover who owned the cell was practically impossible. They were untraceable due to the fact they could be bought with cash without having to sign a contract. Sara held optimistically on to the thought that it wouldn't be. They needed to know who Lindsey had been talking to. Whoever owned that cell number was possibly the last person she had spoken to before she went missing.

The phone on the desk rang, dragging her back into the room. Archie leaned over and picked it up. Sara ran her fingers through her hair as she listened to the one sided conversation. He grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled some details down before hanging up.

"Ok, we're in luck." Archie said, "That was the phone company. We got a name on the number Lindsey called."

He handed Sara the piece of paper. She lowered her eyes to it. "It's registered to a Ellen Williams." It didn't mean anything to her. She didn't recall any of Lindsey's friends mentioning his name nor did she see any Williams' in Catherine's phone book.

"I'll run her name, see if I can get a profile." Sara said. "Thanks Archie."

* * *

Warrick, Grissom, Catherine and Brass arrived at Sherry Matthews house before 9pm. It was a respectable four bedroom house in Henderson. Catherine knocked on the familiar door and stood back, waiting for an answer.

Warrick studied her momentarily out of the corner of his eye wondering how much more of this she could take. He had never seen her so stressed out. Not that he didn't completely understand, he just wished he could do something to help. He hated seeing her this way.

The door opened after a minute revealing a sleek brunette woman. Warrick assumed it was Sherry. She was garbed in a pair of smart pants and a shirt. She was every inch the professional with the two point four children, two cars, complete with family holidays twice a year. Sherry looked flabbergasted at the crowd gathered on her doorstep before finally noticing Catherine.

"Cath. I take it there's still no sign of Lindsey." Sherry flashed her a sympathetic look when the blonde woman shook her head.

"Is it ok if we come in?" Grissom asked. "We're from the Crime Lab."

Sherry opened the door wider to admit them and ushered them all into the living room. It was beautifully furnished with squashy couches and heavy oak sideboards. Offering them all a seat, Catherine and Grissom were the only ones who accepted. Warrick thought Catherine looked like she would fall down if she didn't sit. He, however, turned his attention to the room itself, scanning his eyes over the multiple family portraits. This had been the last known place Lindsey had been. He was searching for anything that might suggest she had been here.

"Hon? Who was that at the –" The new voice belonged to a tall blond haired man. He glanced around at the small party that had invaded his living room and gazed at Sherry baffled.

"This is Mike Calvez, my fiancée." Sherry explained. "Mike, these gentlemen are from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. They're looking for Lindsey."

"We won't take much of your time, Ms Mathews, Mr Calvez." Brass assured them. "We're just trying to find Lindsey."

"I dropped Lindsey off here last night." Catherine began, her voice shaky, but Sherry shook her head.

"If you did then she didn't set foot over my door, I'm sorry."

"When was the last time you saw Lindsey?" Brass spoke.

"Um… a few of days ago. She stayed over."

Mike wandered over, dropping next to Sherry. "It was Tuesday night." He said.

Catherine nodded numbly confirming her story.

"Is Jayne around? We'll have to talk to her to." The detective questioned.

"She's still at her father's. I'll call her if you want."

Brass nodded but it was Grissom who spoke.

"Do you mind if my colleague has a look around outside your property?" Grissom inquired. Sherry looked puzzled but shook her head.

"Of course not. Whatever you need to do to find Lindsey."

Grissom caught Warrick's eye and nodded. The tall man took the hint and headed back outside into the dark.

Nightfall had crept in over Las Vegas on icy wings. It wasn't unusually cold for this time of year but Warrick felt a shiver run through him. He wondered if it was the weather or the circumstances that had caused the chill. He pulled the zip up on his jacket as he took out his flashlight.

The entire situation was wrong. Lindsey had been such a big part of everyone's lives. They had all watched her grow up over the years, listening to stories of her latest escapades from Catherine. Warrick couldn't help but worry about the teenage girl. In fact he was more worried than he would ever admit. He didn't want to upset Catherine but he had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. Warrick hoped the amber alert would yield some results. He hoped that someone had seen Lindsey and would call in. he hoped more than anything that they would find the girl unharmed. All he seemed to have at the moment was hope. Warrick sighed deeply. He couldn't bear to think how this would affect Catherine if Lindsey didn't turn up.

Focusing his attention on his task he started with the doorstep, optimistic that it would yield something. He was hoping to find a shoe impression, a print, a fibre, sign of a struggle. Anything. All he needed was one small piece of evidence that would give them something to go off. At the moment it was as if Lindsey had just vanished into thin air.

Warrick searched every inch of the front of the house twice but to his dismay found nothing substantial. The outside was as well maintained as the inside. There was a tarmac drive way big enough for two vehicles and the front lawn was enclosed by a small wooden fence. Even the flower beds underneath the main wall of the house were neatly organised. The amount of order in this woman's life freaked Warrick out a little. He never understood how people were able to put so much structure into their lives whilst working and raising kids.

He was just about to head around the back when Catherine came hurtling out of the front door. Warrick glanced up from where he was stood to see Grissom trailing behind her.

"Catherine wait!"

"Wait for what, Gil?" She exploded, her voice tinged with emotion. She verged on hysterical as she rounded on the entomologist. "It could be Lindsey! Were you ever planning on telling me about it or did you just want to see the look on my face when I walked into the morgue?"

Grissom took her accusing tone with nothing more than a sigh. "I don't think there is a link between Lindsey's disappearance and this homicide."

"What's going on?" Warrick asked arriving at Catherine's side. Her entire body was trembling with rage. He placed a hand on her arm hoping to placate or at least calm her down a little. The blond woman either chose to ignore him or didn't hear him speak as she continued her tirade at Grissom.

"No link? Lindsey goes missing. A dead girl turns up shortly after and you don't think there's a link?!" She paused glaring fiercely at him. "How long have you known?"

Grissom pursed his lips together, debating whether or not to answer that question. He exhaled deeply, knowing it had got passed the point of lies and half truths now.

"An hour." He said finally.

"You've let me run around Vegas for the last hour knowing there is a body in the morgue that could be _my daughter_?" She shook her head incredulously.

"It might not even be Lindsey, Catherine. Greg is running DNA right now." Catherine rolled her eyes, throwing her arms in the air as Grissom continued his fruitless attempt to pacify her. It wasn't working however. She was getting more and more enraged with each word he spoke. Grissom finished his sentence quietly, his brow furrowing. "I didn't see the point of unnecessarily worrying you."

"That's not your call to make, Gil! She's _my_ daughter! You should have told me."

Grissom didn't say anything further. He sensed his explanations were just incensing her further.

"Hold up." Warrick spoke, trying to figure out what was going on. "Greg found a body that he thinks could be-?" Warrick broke off casting an eye at Catherine who was pacing the sidewalk with short steps.

Grissom took a shuddering breath, and with an enormous amount of effort turned to Warrick.

"Greg and Jack were called out to a scene. From what I can gather it's the third homicide in my serial killer case."

"And no one thought to tell me." Catherine interjected still fuming. Warrick cast his eyes at the blonde CSI for a moment before carefully speaking to Grissom.

"How is this linked to Lindsey?"

"The victim is female." Grissom answered. "Other than that there is _no_ link." He emphasised the word 'no', casting a look at Catherine.

Warrick was really confused now. Greg knew Lindsey. He should have been able to identify her. Unless… unless her was face was unrecognizable. Warrick suddenly felt sick, wondering what state the body had been found in but his thoughts were broken as Catherine turned back towards her original destination: the car. Both Grissom and Warrick moved towards her, knowing she was not in the right frame of mind to be driving but it was Warrick who managed to get a hand to her and grab her arm, stopping her.

"Cath-" His tone was pleading.

She glanced down at the grip he had on her and shook him off angrily.

"I'm going to the lab to see if my daughter's dead. You want to try and stop me?" her tone bordered on murderous. Warrick had never seen her this way. There was a real rage in her eyes. He knew she was worried and frightened but he was almost afraid of her reaction. Slowly the black man shook his head.

"No," He said softly. "I'm not going to stop you but I'll drive you to the lab."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Time. The one thing no one has any control over. It moves inexorably on with no thought of the creatures that live by its schedule. Time cannot be taken back unlike words. There is no apology that can change it. There is no bridge that can rebuild it. Time is the one aspect of life that is predetermined. Everyone runs by time.

Greg glanced up at the clock and for once wished time would move quicker. He had already pulled Catherine's DNA from CODIS and was waiting for the machine behind him to finish its scan. It was taking forever. He drummed his fingers on the desk and sighed, casting his eyes at it every now and again. He was hoping it would be done before Mia got back off her break. He didn't want to explain to her why he was sat watching the machine.

"Hey." He turned to see Sara as she entered.

"Hey." Greg responded trying not to sound too despondent. He failed miserably. "Any luck with Lindsey's friends?"

"No but Archie pulled her cell phone records and I got a name from the last call she made."

"You ran it yet?"

"Just about to." Sara told him. "How did you get on with your scene?"

Greg pulled a face. "Decapitation. It wasn't pretty."

He debated telling her what he had found but decided against it until he knew for definite. He didn't want to worry anyone unnecessarily. Unfortunately Greg had forgotten that he still had Catherine's DNA report on the desk. Sara picked it up and scanned her eyes over it before giving him a questioning look. Greg exhaled deeply knowing there was no way he could lie his way out of this.

"The body we found is a young female. We couldn't get an ID on her." He dragged his fingers through his hair. Sara pulled her eyes from the paper to his face, her expression startled.

"You think its Lindsey?"

He shrugged cringing. "I'm not ruling it out. I found a necklace from a local dance school. I remember Catherine said Lindsey attended one."

Sara frowned a little at that. "That's not much to go off. It doesn't necessarily point to the vic being Lindsey."

"I know but it's all I've got at the moment. With the time scale of her disappearance and TOD…" he sighed, shaking his head. "I hope it's not but…" He trailed off for the second time unsure of how to finish his sentence. Sara pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment, staring at the sheet containing Catherine's DNA before she spoke again.

"You got in touch with this dance school?"

Greg scowled. "Waiting on the warrant to get the records."

It annoyed the hell out of him how pedantic people got the moment the police requested anything. _"Do you have a warrant"_ seemed to be the most over used phrase in Greg's life these days. Why people couldn't just be compliant he did not know. It's not like they wanted the information for something stupid. They were looking for a missing person, trying to discover the name of a murdered victim.

"You know you could have just asked Catherine." Sara said carefully. Greg shook his head.

"The minute I ask Catherine about the dance school she's gonna know I've found something. I don't want her to see that body unless she has to." His expression turned wry. "It's not really the nicest thing to look at."

She nodded. Sara understood where he was coming from but even so this seemed long winded. Catherine would be able to give them an answer in two seconds. She understood Greg's reluctance however. If he was shook up by what he had seen then showing Catherine probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.

"What else did you get from the scene?" Sara hoped a look over the evidence would rule the body out as Lindsey's. Greg winced. She frowned at his reaction. "What's wrong?"

"I uh kind of left Jack there."

Sara raised her brow. "What do you mean you kind of left Jack there?"

"I…" He paused lowering his eyes. "I needed an ID so I came back here."

He hoped she wouldn't see through it but he should have known better. Sara was used to digging out lies. Sighing he continued speaking.

"I… freaked out, ok? Couldn't stay there any longer. It was too… weird." He rubbed his temple feeling somewhat stupid and more than a little weak but to his surprise she touched his arm gently.

"Some cases are harder than others. It can't have been easy being there with a mutilated body thinking it was someone you knew." She hesitated. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

He shook his head. "Only me and Jack know. I gave Mandy her prints to run but told her to find me when the results come back."

"Keep it that way for the time being."

Greg hadn't intended on telling anyone anyway but it was reassuring that Sara agreed with him.

"You want to run me this name?" Sara said handing him the scrap of paper. Greg took it from her and studied it for a moment.

"Any idea who Ellen Williams is?"

Sara shook her head, smirking a little. "Hence trying to find out."

Greg pulled a face at the stupidness of his question and typed the name into the computer without another word. As it began scanning through the system Greg felt a pang of frustration. It was another thing to wait for. Greg seemed to have spent all night waiting on things. It was beginning to irritate him.

"Hey guys."

The familiar voice startled them. Both Sara and Greg took their eyes from the screen to glance up as Nick and Adrienne entered.

"How did you get on at Catherine's house?" Sara asked.

Nick took a deep breath, glancing down at his feet. Greg realised it had probably been fairly difficult for Nick processing the house of someone he knew so well.

"Nothing substantial. Just a photograph but I'm not sure what use it might be." He said sliding the picture of the dark haired man on the table. Both Greg and Sara looked at it but neither of them recognised him. "What about you two?"

Greg turned his head away from them, his brow knitting. He didn't want to tell them what he had found but was saved by Sara speaking. She told them about the phone number. As Sara finished explaining the computer bleeped and a picture flashed up on screen. They all turned to look at it. It hadn't found anything through CODIS but the photocard on screen was from the DMV. It showed a blond woman in her late forties. Greg scanned through the information.

"Ok, Ellen Williams. Nothing through CODIS so she's probably got no previous convictions to date. She's local. She seems a little old to be a friend of Lindsey's." He said, catching Sara's eye. She didn't make any response however. The brunette was still reading through the information.

"I'll call Brass." She said finally.

The DNA machine beeped suddenly, indicating it had finished. Greg felt his heart go cold as he slowly got to his feet, trying to avoid everyone's gaze. As naturally as he could he waited for the report to print out but he had the feeling he looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. The paper began moving slowly out. He was positive it never took this long to print usually. Switching between his feet he willed it to move faster but like a watched clock it seemingly moved slower the more he stared at it.

"Is it Lindsey?"

Greg spun at the voice, coming face to face with Catherine. She looked riled. Warrick was stood at the side of her, his hand posed as if to hold her back. Nick frowned glancing between them.

"Is what Lindsey?" The Texan asked confusion plastered on his face.

"Cath I'm sorry." Greg muttered, not knowing what else to say. He hadn't taken his eyes off Catherine since she entered the DNA lab. He felt the weight of guilt pressing down on him like an anvil. Greg felt like he should have told her about his suspicions but he hadn't known how to. How where you supposed to tell a friend that their daughter could be dead? Not only dead but beheaded.

"Is it Lindsey?" Catherine repeated.

Greg furrowed his brow. "I don't know yet."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded. Greg winced a little, wondering how to answer that. Feeling everyone's eyes on him he sighed before speaking.

"You know why." He said softly.

He glanced down at the printer and realised it had completed its task. Slowly he reached down and picked the report up, casting his eyes over it. He read it twice before exhaling deeply.

"Greg?" Sara began.

He raised his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. Greg could never really explain how he felt in that moment. It was the strangest feeling. Like having the rug pulled from under you only to have someone catch you.

"It's… it's not Lindsey."

Catherine stared at him as if waiting for him to change his answer. When he didn't she let out a sob of pure relief. Gathering her into his arms, Warrick held her as she sobbed, the other four watching on, unsure of how they felt. It was a relief that it wasn't Lindsey but it still left the burning question in all of their minds: where was she?

* * *

Greg made an excuse and left the DNA lab, heading to the locker room. He needed to clear his head. He paced the room with small steps for a moment before sinking onto the bench and burying his head in his hands. Tonight had been too much. It was too hard. Greg felt the last two hours weighing down on him, crushing him. His mind physically couldn't fit anything else in. Pushing his fingers through his hair he closed his eyes, wanting to block out the world. 

"Greg?"

He opened his eyes slowly and saw Sara was crouching in front of him. Her face was lined with concern.

"You left the DNA lab pretty quickly."

He rubbed his hand over his chin, shifting his shoulders slightly. "Sorry."

"I know tonight's been hard but we've all got to keep it together." It wasn't said harshly, just matter of factly. Greg squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sometimes getting through a shift is impossible."

Sara sighed. "You did fine tonight Greg. Catherine… she's just dealing with a lot."

Greg smiled wryly. "I know. I just feel bad that I lied."

"Hey, you did what you thought was right at the time. Don't give yourself a hard time over this."

He felt momentarily soothed by her words but he still felt the hand of guilt squashing him.

"Do you think we're gonna find Lindsey?" He asked quietly. Sara pulled her brow together and feigned a smile.

"Of course. It's what we do."

"Hey, Greg?" Mandy's voice from the doorway of the locker room forced him to break his gaze with Sara. "Sorry to interrupt but I got a ID on your vic."

Greg pushed himself to his feet and took the report from her. Casting his eyes over the picture of a dark haired girl he felt awful as he realised he was glad it wasn't Lindsey. She was still a person with a family, friends, people who cared about her but she was unknown to him. it was easier to deal with not knowing her than it would have been if it had been Catherine's daughter.

Her name was Kerry Tomlinson. She was in her early twenties. She was fairly attractive and had a previous misdemeanour for street walking. Greg sighed. That would explain why whore was written on the floor near her body. Maybe her killer didn't like her profession. Now all he had to do was link the other crimes to this one. He exhaled deeply.

"Do you know if Grissom's back yet?"

Mandy shook her head. "If he is he hasn't graced the print lab with his presence."

"Thanks Mandy." He muttered, still distracted with reading.

"No problem."

Greg watched her leave before turning back to Sara. He wanted to help find Lindsey but he knew this case was quickly becoming top priority. Three murders in as many weeks. The killer was relentless and needed to be stopped before anyone else died. He wasn't sure how to explain his need to continue on this case but Sara seemed to have read his mind.

"You know we can handle finding Lindsey if you want to carry on working on this."

He nodded. "Thanks Sara."

"Let me know if you need any help."

Greg left the locker room, picked up the case files and evidence he needed and wandered down to an empty room. He called Detective Vega first to tell him what he had found. He listened carefully and then told Greg he would dig around and see if he could get an address for the girl. Thanking him Greg hung up and turned his attention to the evidence he had dragged down to the room.

Meticulously he laid the photographs of all three crimes on the table and studied them. There was a definite link between the victims. Each one had been slain in a brutal manner. The first, James Faulkner, stoned to death, the second Marcus Rowley, hanged, the third Kerry Tomlinson, beheaded. He cast his eyes over the words left by the victims. SCUM, JUDAS and WHORE. It all fitted Greg's initial theory about it being a religious theme. So many saints had been stoned or beheaded. He still wasn't sure how the hanging quite fitted into it but he was sure that would become apparent in time.

Sighing Greg leaned heavily on the edge of the table wondering if the victims knew one another. Faulkner had been poor, living in a dilapidated apartment, unemployed. Rowley had been married, wealthy, a lawyer. He didn't know much about the third victim's monetary status but she was a street walker. Greg sighed again. There was very little to link them. They lived on opposite ends of Vegas. they didn't work or hang out in the same areas. It was as if they were three completely unrelated crimes, linked only by the MO.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." Jack Robinson sighed entering the room and sinking on to a stool. He looked more than exhausted.

"Sorry." Greg apologised.

"You get an ID on our db?"

Greg winced. He had forgotten to tell Jack. "Yeah, uh, it's not Lindsey." He answered guiltily. "Vic's name is Kerry Tomlinson. I've spoken to Vega. He's trying to locate an address."

Jack exhaled with relief. "Have the others found anything more to go on with Lindsey?"

"Name off her phone records. That's about it."

The level three merely nodded. "You get anything else from our vic?"

"Well the three homicides are definitely the same MO. I just don't understand how they're linked. They have nothing in common."

Jack pursed his lips scanning his eyes over the desk. "Not all actions are logical."

Greg smiled a little noting how much he sounded like Grissom. "Did you get anything more from the scene?"

Passing a hand over his eyes Jack shook his head. "Not really. The blood splatter suggests that it took him several attempts to remove the head. I spoke to Doc Robbins about the COD. Mode of death was exsanguination."

Greg grunted. That much had been obvious. It was kind of hard not to bleed to death after having your head removed. When he relayed this to Jack he frowned.

"Well that was the mode of death but the cause of death was slightly different. Doc Robbins said she had several stab wounds to her back as well. She was probably already dead when he removed the head."

The younger man cringed at the brutality of the crime. It was not the nicest way to go but Greg was glad she had not been alive for that. He couldn't imagine the fear, not to mention the pain, of being decapitated. Greg shuddered.

"Did she have any defensive wounds?" Greg inquired, feeling a little nauseous.

"That's the weird thing. She seems to have just let this guy attack her."

Greg frowned. "Maybe she knew her attacker?"

Jack shook his head. "Even if she knew the murderer I can't imagine anyone letting someone stab them repeatedly without fighting back."

Neither could Greg. He passed a weary hand over his eyes, his mind rolling over the details.

"The second victim, Marcus Rowley, was injected with GHB."

Jack raised his brow. "That would explain a lot. Robbins sent a sample toxicology so when we get that back we'll know more. Did you get anything from under the nails?"

Greg shook his head. "Not a thing. Mia's running through the rest of the stuff now. Hopefully something will turn up."

He wasn't holding his breath. This guy was clever. In the first two murders he had committed he hadn't left a single useable trace of anything on the victims or at the scene. It was unlikely there would be anything on the third. It was disconcerting.

"I guess now all we have to do is find the head."

"Well I checked the garbage cans around the area and the perimeter but nothing." Jack said with a sigh.

"So he either took it with him or he dumped it somewhere…"

Greg mulled that over in his own mind, fighting with his stomach. It was unnatural. Sometimes people scared him. He wondered how they could do this sort of thing to each other. If nothing else his job questioned his faith in people.

* * *

Sara and Nick decided to follow up on Ellen Williams, leaving Warrick and Catherine in the lab. The blonde woman had wanted to come but they had all told her she couldn't. Her presence would compromise any evidence they found and possibly ruin any case they made. Catherine had reluctantly agreed to stay behind. In truth she was far too frantic to be of any use to them anyway. 

Ellen Williams lived on the outskirts of east Vegas in a mediocre neighbourhood of squat small houses. Sara pulled her sunglasses off her head, settling them onto the bridge of her nose. The sun was up by this point and despite being after seven am it was relatively warm. Spring was definitely on its way.

Brass pulled the car up outside the house and the three of them got out. Sara flicked her eyes around as she pushed the metal gate open and wandered up the path towards the front door.

A moment after Brass had rapped on the door it swung open, revealing the woman from the photocard they had pulled from the DMV. She narrowed her eyes at the three people stood on her door step as Brass flipped open his ID.

"Ellen Williams? Captain Brass Las Vegas Police, this is Sara Sidle and Nick Stokes from the Crime Lab. Can we come in?"

She looked as if she was about to say no and then sighed, stepping back into the house. The three of them followed her into a tiny sitting room. There was only one sofa and an armchair and so Sara and Brass sat whilst Nick stood. The room was sparsly decorated and Sara noticed immediately that there were no family portraits on the walls. It was weird. Sara had never been to a house that didn't have at least one photograph of the children. Turning her attention back to the woman, Ellen Williams shrugged her shoulders at them.

"So what's this about?"

"Do you know Lindsey Willows?" Brass asked. Ellen shrugged, shaking her head.

"The kid from the amber alert? No."

Sara raised her brow and handed her a sheet of paper. "This cell number highlighted at the top is from a phone registered to you. According to the phone company this number rang Lindsey Willows a total of twenty eight times in the last month or so."

Ellen Williams looked shocked and lowered her eyes to the number, her brow furrowed. She sighed after a moment.

"The phone is in my name but it's not my phone." She rubbed her temple. "It's my son's cell. He got himself into some debt and couldn't get credit so I took the contract out for him."

"What's your son's name?" Nick asked.

"Joshua." She responded in a weary tone.

"Has he ever mentioned Lindsey?" Brass intercepted.

"He doesn't live with me but I've never heard him talk about her."

"Have you got an address of where we can find Joshua?"

Ellen glanced between the three of them. "Is he a suspect? I promise you he would never hurt that girl."

"We're just following up a lead. Your son was the last call made from Lindsey's phone."

Ellen pulled a face but scrawled down the address handing it to Brass.

"Josh is a good lad." She mumbled under her breath.

Brass sighed, tucking the address away as he got to his feet.

"I hope so. For his sake."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N** thanks to everyone who reviewed. I want to say a huuuuge thank you to BekiC for reading all my chapters before I post them and always telling me honestly whether I'm rambling on or writing something remotely good. Thanks. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It was a pain in the ass to write :D

* * *

**Chapter Ten **

At the same time as Nick, Sara and Brass were heading out to locate Joshua Williams Greg was sat in the break room stuffing down a sandwich of some description. It didn't really taste like food but he was too hungry to care. He hadn't realised it had been almost twelve hours since he had last eaten – and longer since he had slept - but his body had finally driven him to take a break. He was physically and mentally drained. He was already an hour and a half into over time and his body was screaming for sleep. Jack had gone home ten minutes ago barely able to keep his eyes open. The guy had worked a double and was exhausted. Greg was amazed he had stayed as long as he had considering he was supposed to be back on swing shift later that day.

Greg should have left already himself but he wasn't ready to go home yet. There was too much going on. Greg took a mouthful of coffee and hoped it would give him the energy to stay alert for a couple more hours. He doubted it would have any effect however. He drank so much of the stuff that his blood stream probably contained more caffeine than the cup did.

From where he was sat Greg had a perfect view up the corridor so he saw Grissom wandering down towards him and quickly finished the rest of his drink off, shoving the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth knowing he was probably needed for something. As expected Grissom strolled into the break room, a file in his hand, and glanced at Greg over the top of his glasses.

"You're still here."

Greg wanted to point out that so was everyone else but he still had a mouthful of food so didn't have a chance to respond before Grissom continued.

"Jack filled me in on the db from last night."

"Yeah. It wasn't pretty."" Greg said eventually, having swallowed the last remnants of the sandwich. It travelled down his oesophagus in a painful lump and Greg made a mental note to chew before swallowing next time.

Grissom nodded but remained stoic as always. "You worked the scene?"

"With Jack, yes." Greg wanted to make it clear he had been supervised although he surmised that Sara had probably told Grissom that when she rang to tell him about the db. But that wasn't what Grissom was interested in.

"It's the same MO as the other cases?" Greg nodded.

"Whore was written on the floor in blood. Mia ran a comparison and it's the vics own but this one seems so much more violent than the other two."

Grissom pressed his lips together, studying him for a moment. "Hard night last night?"

Greg shrugged. "No worse than any other." He lied. Grissom quirked his brow but didn't say anything more on the matter. He knew it had been hard for everyone last night, himself included.

"I'm having you reinstated to your original role." Grissom said finally.

Greg blinked at that. "Ecklie wants me back out on cases? But what about my proficiency?"

Grissom's expression was unreadable. "Not exactly. We're under staffed with this thing with Lindsey. I need you to be able to do your job without someone trailing after you."

The younger man winced. "So you haven't cleared it with Ecklie?"

"Let me worry about Ecklie." Grissom said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I want you to stay on this case."

Whilst Greg was happy to have his proper job back he didn't relish the thought of crossing Ecklie. The man had a habit of making employees disappear into the black hole of unemployment.

"Am I going to get fired for this?" Greg asked carefully.

"No. You're not." Grissom responded. "I'll take full responsibility." Greg pulled a face, changing his tactic.

"Are _you_ going to get fired for this?"

Grissom smirked. "Not if I can help it."

Greg pressed the heel of his hand against his right eye. He was too tired to argue it although he realised he probably should. Ecklie wasn't someone to take on lightly.

"When Nick gets back I'll reassign him to help you so I can stay on the Lindsey case." Grissom paused. "What do you plan to do next?"

Sighing Greg rubbed his chin. "I'm waiting on Detective Vega to get a contact address for the victim. In the mean time I was thinking of going back up to the scene, see if I can get anything else from it. Maybe we missed something."

"Do you think you missed something?"

Greg frowned not wanting to tell him he hadn't processed the entire scene. He couldn't imagine what Grissom's reaction would be to learning that Jack had done most of the work whilst he had sat in the DNA lab waiting to find out if the victim was Lindsey. Instead he dodged the question.

"We still haven't located the head. It wasn't in the immediate vicinity but maybe a widening of the search area might turn it up."

Grissom nodded, seemingly pleased with his response. "Ok. Keep me informed about what you find. If you need any help I'm on my cell."

Greg watched the older man go and after a moment rose to his feet, heading down to the locker room to grab his stuff.

* * *

Joshua Williams lived no more than three blocks from his mother. From the outside his apartment looked like a dilapidated shack. The paint work on the exterior of the building was flaking and cracked and the window frames were crumbling in places. It was like an advert for the down and out of society.

Climbing the exterior steps up to the second floor the three of them stopped outside number twenty five. Brass knocked on the door and stood back. After a couple of moments it opened to reveal a man in his late twenties. His hair was tousled as if he had just got out of bed and he was garbed only in a pair of kaki cargo pants.

Nick recognised the dark haired man immediately. He was the guy in the picture he had found in Lindsey's room. Williams leaned idly against the door, crossing his arms over his bare chest, a look of arrogance in that stance. It irritated Nick immediately. He cast a glance at Sara who caught his eye with a slight quirk of her brow. she clearly recognized the man herself.

"Yeah?" Williams demanded.

"Joshua Williams?" Brass asked. The man rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his fingers, squinting in the sun.

"Who wants to know?"

"LVPD." Brass flashed his badge at him with a surly smile. He was clearly not impressed with his stance either. "We'd like a chat."

"I'm kinda busy."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah it looks like it."

"Look," Brass began, his tone annoyed, "You can either help us out here or come down the station and do it. It's up to you."

The dark haired man pulled a face. "Hey I know my rights, you can't arrest me without probable cause."

"I've got probable cause. How about the abduction of Lindsey Willows?"

Williams went silent. "I never abducted no one."

"You do know Lindsey Willows though?" Sara asked.

He glanced at her and shrugged. "I know lots of people."

"Ok, I'm sick of your crap." Brass snapped. "We pulled your phone records. You were the last person she spoke to. That's enough for me to bring you in. You're under arrest."

Josh held his hands up as Brass moved forward, pulling his cuffs out. "Ok, ok, I know her." He glanced around. "You better come in before my neighbours start talking."

He stepped aside opening the door wider to admit them. The three of them moved into the house. Nick roved his eyes around the room, looking for something. Anything that might link him further to Lindsey. it was a dank depressing space with threadbare furniture and the smell of stagnant food. Lying around were empty takeout boxes and dirty plates. Housekeeping was clearly a word this guy had never heard of.

With in a split second everything changed. Williams darted out of the front door, pushing past the only person in his way: Sara. She stumbled backwards, losing her balance from the unexpected force and hit the floor awkwardly. Brass was already out of the door chasing after him but Nick stopped briefly to make sure Sara was ok.

"Go, I'm fine." She muttered.

Nick cast a glance at her before he bolted out of the room, his head flicking from side to side. Brass and Williams had barely cleared the stairs as Nick took off after them at full break speed. Williams was quick on his feet but Nick was quicker. The Texan sprinted passed Brass and after several yards finally got a hand to Williams, thrusting him against a wall. Williams kicked back catching Nick in the ribs, momentarily winding him but Brass had arrived and slammed the suspect back against the wall, pulling out his cuffs.

"And there's my probable cause." Brass growled. "You're under arrest for the abduction of Lindsey Willows."

Nick stood back, holding his side, his breathing laboured as Brass half pushed, half dragged Williams back towards the apartment. The suspect gave Nick a sour glare as he passed him.

"You ok Stokes?" Brass asked, maintaining his grip on Joshua Williams.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine." Nick said with a shuddering breath, glaring at the suspect. He had never felt such a wave of hatred for anyone as he did for this guy right now. He knew something about Lindsey. He had run, that was guilt enough in Nick's eyes.

When they arrived back at the apartment, Brass pushed Williams into the back of his car whilst Nick ran up the steps. He found Sara sat on the doorstep. She glanced up at him as he approached.

"Are you all right?" Nick crouched down beside her, his eyes scanning over her face. She didn't appear to be hurt.

"I'm fine." She gave him a weak smile. When Nick gave her a sceptical look she rolled her eyes a little. "Really, Nick, I'm ok. He just caught me off guard is all."

"You fell pretty hard." He countered, wanting to go and break William's face.

"Yeah, well, I'm not made of glass so stop looking at me as if I'm going to break."

Nick sighed knowing there was no point arguing with her. She was stubborn to the point of irritation at times. He offered a hand and helped Sara to her feet before following her into the house.

Gloving up, he flicked his flashlight around the room and began searching for anything that would link Williams further to Lindsey. Nick knew in his heart that this guy had seen her. They just needed something more than his phone records to put him in the frame.

Pulling the drawers of a small sideboard open he rooted through them but all he found was a stack of take out menus, some unpaid bills and other bits of paper. Nick scanned his eyes over them but didn't find anything useful. sighing, he shoved them back in the drawer and moved on.

"Hey, Nick. I got something."

Nick moved over to where Sara was crouched down quickly. She pulled something from under the sofa with a pair of long nosed tweezers and studied it. It was a silver charm bracelet.

"Somehow I don't think that's William's style." Nick muttered.

Sara shook her head, sliding it into a bindle. "Well if it belongs to Lindsey DNA will be able to match her epithelia's on it."

"Yeah, I hope so." He sighed shaking his head. "She's been missing a long time."

Sara flicked her gaze to him, knowing what he was implying. She was still hopeful that they would find Lindsey alive and well but with every hour that passed the chances were getting slimmer. Sara felt so helpless. Abduction cases were always hard, especially when it involved children. There was always that sense of running against the clock. She just hoped they hadn't run out of time.

* * *

Greg pulled up outside the crime scene and got out of the Denali. The sun was high in the sky, making him squint at the brightness of it. He wished he had remembered to pick up his sunglasses but he had left them in his locker back at the lab. In the grand scheme of things he supposed it didn't matter. His body was too tired to care about a bit of sunlight. In fact he had gone beyond exhaustion now and was running on fumes. As he unpacked his kit, pulling on his CSI vest, he reflected on the events of last night. It had been the hardest shift he had ever worked and it didn't look like it would be over any time soon. Greg longed to go home, shower, and crawl into bed but he would not be able to rest until he had looked over this scene once more. He needed to find something. Greg wanted this bastard caught.

The warehouse where the decapitated body was found was surrounded by several other abandoned buildings. They rose out of the tarmac like huge corrugated fat men as far as the eye could see. Scanning his eyes around he decided to start at the actual crime scene first and then work his way down the buildings.

Entering the warehouse, he ducked under the crime scene tape and switched his flash light on. Despite the body being removed the blood spatters were still sprayed up the walls and scorched into the floor. The smell of death clung to his nostrils, burning into his senses. Shuddering he moved passed the splatter and began his search, trying to push the image of Kerry Tomlinson's decapitated corpse out of his mind. It wasn't easy. After a full hour of searching he didn't find anything so he headed out of the warehouse.

Idly Greg wandered over to a clump of dumpsters and flipped the lid back. The smell of stale garbage hit him like a smack in the face. Pressing the back of his hand to his nose he stuck his head over the rim and shot his eyes around the top layer. He couldn't see much and with a deep sigh Greg realised he was going to have to get up close and personal with this dumpster in order to do a proper sweep. Scowling, he exhaled and pulled himself up onto the edge of it and leaned over, digging deeper.

"I bet Sherlock Holmes never had to dig in garbage." He muttered under his breath feeling slightly nauseous at the smell wafting up at him.

His phone chose to ring at that moment. Greg, swinging off the side of the dumpster, tried to hold with one hand and pull his phone out with other instead of doing the sensible thing and getting down. Unfortunately he tried to do too many things at once and dropped his phone into the dumpster. His immediate reaction was to try and catch it but as he did he lost his balance and tipped headfirst into the pile of rubbish, legs flailing in the air. He landed heavily in the dumpster with a thud.

Closing his eyes tightly, surrounded by garbage, he groaned, rubbing his throbbing elbow. This was not a good day. Angry and more than frustrated he pulled himself up, grabbed his cell and hoisted himself out of the container.

"Sanders?" He muttered irritably into his phone whilst brushing the rubbish off his clothes. The smell was repulsive. He had never wanted to shower as much as he did in that moment.

"G…g… Nick, w…e are y…?"

"Nick? You're breaking up. Hold on, I'll move." Greg stepped away from the warehouse, trying to get a better signal but apparently he was in a cell phone black hole.

"Can you hear me now?"

"G…g… to me… you….gotta get…there!"

Frowning Greg stopped trying to clean his clothes off to listen. "What? Nick, I can't hear a word you're saying."

The line went dead. Greg pulled his cell from his ear and gazed at the screen. His signal had gone completely. He tried to dial out but it wouldn't connect. Sighing he turned to walk back to the Denali intending to pick up his radio but something caught his eye.

He had a view down the alleyway between the buildings. Wandering down the narrow walk way he moved over to what had caught his eye. Just over ten meters from where Greg had just been standing, towards the end of the alleyway was a car. It was a blue buick, an old model, slightly battered around the edges. There was a scuff along the bumper and a long scratch on the passenger side. He wondered if it had been involved in an accident lately but the vehicle was so old it was difficult to tell. Greg scanned his eyes around the area wondering who it belonged to. There was nothing out here but rows of abandoned warehouses. It didn't make sense.

He peered through the driver side window and noticed blood on the seat. The sight of it made him go cold. The question burning through his mind was whose blood was it? so close to the crime scene he surmised it was probably the victims but he was struck by the oddity of it. The suspect had been so careful up to now. He hadn't left a trace of DNA at any of the scenes yet and now Greg was faced with a blood soaked car. It didn't sit right. Why leave it here? He frowned deeply, his brow furrowing.

Glancing over his shoulder he suddenly felt very alone out here. He knew he should swab the vehicle but part of him wanted to go back and call for back up. Greg fought for a moment with his own sense of reason and finally tried the handle on the door. He needed to collect the evidence. It could help them locate a suspect.

It clicked open. Obviously whoever had left it here wasn't bothered about it being taken. Carefully, holding his breath, he pulled the door and took a swab from his vest pocket. Running the tip over the seat he pushed the protective sheath over it and slipped it back into his pocket. As he went to straighten up he caught sight of something underneath the chair. Frowning he reached under with a pair of tweezers and pulled a bloodied cloth out. He studied it, a chill running up his spine. Maybe the blood was Kerry Tomlinson. He hoped it would contain some epithelia's from the suspect.

As he went to pull a clear evidence bag from his vest pocket he heard something behind him. He turned to see what it was but a sharp pain split down the back of his head. His legs lost all strength and buckled, forcing him to his knees. His vision swam and nausea swept over him. He tried to twist around to see what had hit him but he didn't get a chance to react further as a second blow struck him. A dark vortex moved in around the edge of his sight and he inexorably he felt himself being dragged into unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N** Sorry its taken so long to update. I had a momentary lapse of writers block, which is astounding considering I've written so much this year. Not to mention I've worked every day this week. I think I exhausted myself! But anywho, I'm back and hopefully my writing is still up to its usual standard. I'm not sure how much I'll update over this weekend. I'm pretty much working all of it. Damn holidays! Ta for reviews. Let me know what you think of this one. Anywhoooo have a nice easter you guys, eat lots of choc, and watch crap TV!

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* * *

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**Chapter Eleven **

"We know that you knew Lindsey, we have your number on her cell phone records." Brass was saying as he paced the interview room with small steps. His whole stance radiated anger.

Joshua Williams was sat at the table, his head cocked slightly to one side, glaring at the detective. He hadn't said a word since they brought him in. His lawyer, Amanda Redman, was a blonde with short curly hair and an attitude that stunk almost as bad as Williams'. So far they had both been fairly compliant but the lawyer was starting to lose her temper. Grissom was the only one who seemed relatively unperturbed with the entire situation.

"Ok, Josh, is this you?" Brass demanded pushing the photograph of him and Lindsey across the table. The young man broke his gaze with the detective and lowered his eyes to it. He nodded.

"Detective Brass," Redman began, her own eyes on the photograph, "if you don't have anything more substantial than a picture of my client with the victim then we're out of here."

Brass cast a glance at the lawyer and exhaled deeply. "Your _client_ is the last person the victim spoke to. We also found a bracelet in his apartment that had Lindsey Willows DNA on it." Redman glanced over the reports Brass had just produced and scoffed.

"So what? That doesn't mean he abducted her."

But Brass ignored her, continuing as if she hadn't spoken. "So what did you do with her, Williams? I'm going to take a guess here and say you picked her up, drove her back to your house and then when you heard the amber alert you panicked and you killed her."

A look of anger flashed over the young mans face. "That's not how it went down." Josh snapped. "I didn't even see her that night!"

"Ok then tell me what happened because right now we've got you on abduction and a possible murder charge."

"That's pure speculation." Redman counted. "There is no evidence murder has even taken place here!"

"I didn't kill anyone!" Josh lost his temper. His lawyer was trying in vain to calm him, telling him to stop talking but he ignored her. "I know Lindsey. I've known her for a while but that doesn't mean I abducted her."

Brass changed tactics. "What did you talk about on the phone?" Josh scowled.

"She rang me when she got to her friends, told me to pick her up. I told her no, I had plans. Next thing I heard there's an alert out for her."

Brass studied him for a moment. "That's a really nice story. Can anyone verify it?"

"It's not a story and I was with a buddy. You can call him if you want." Brass gave him a loathing smile.

"Oh I will call your buddy." He growled, placing his hands on the table and leaning over to glare at the suspect. "Ok, then explain how her bracelet ended up snapped under your sofa."

Williams shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to ask her that."

"I think you do know and I also think you know where Lindsey is." Josh met his eyes, his expression dark.

"I don't know a damn thing." He growled.

"Well, the gooey look in your eyes on the photograph kind of makes me think you and Lindsey were more than just friends."

Williams laughed, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling.

"That's ridiculous!"

"Yeah? So is this line crap you're feeding me. Do yourself a favour, Josh, think very carefully about what you say and do here today. You know prison isn't all its cracked up to be. It's not free cable and food for the next twenty five years."

"Ok, Detective Brass," Amanda Redman had had enough. "Let's wrap this up. Do you have anything to link my client to this crime other than a few wishy washy scraps of evidence that suggest he simply _knew_ the victim?"

Reluctantly Brass shook his head. The lawyer and Josh both stood. "Then we're out of here."

Grissom glanced at Brass as the two left.

"He's lying through his teeth." Brass muttered, his lip curling.

"The beginning of wisdom is found in doubting. By doubting we come to the question, and by seeking we may come upon the truth."

Brass raised his brow at Grissom's cryptic words. "I guess that almost passes as an agreement." He scowled. "He's going to walk."

The entomologist pulled a face. "Is there anyway you can keep him for an hour?"

Brass shrugged, looking uncertain. "Maybe on the bracelet..." He frowned. "It's going to take a hell of a lot of arm bending to get the DA to agree to hold him on that though."

Grissom nodded. He knew it was a long shot. The bracelet only placed Lindsey in Williams' apartment at some point; it didn't link him to her abduction. Amanda Redman would argue that her client knew Lindsey and it was possible that the bracelet had been left behind in on a previous occasion. Grissom sighed. He would talk to the DA himself if he had to. He just needed time to find something and he didn't want Joshua Williams running around town with Lindsey still missing.

"Do what you can."

"You better practice parting oceans, Gil, 'cause at this rate we're going to need a miracle."

* * *

Nick was heading up to the DNA lab, his eyes scanning over the report in his hand, when Grissom caught up with him. He had been lost in a world of his own and jumped at the sound of his name.

"Some light reading, Nick?" Grissom asked with a small smirk.

"Uh," Nick cringed a little, feeling stupid. "Sorry."

"What are you looking at?"

"A list of paedophiles, recently released convicts with a history of abduction…" He pulled a face. "It's not a feel good story."

Grissom tried to remain stoic but a slight narrowing of his brow betrayed his emotions. It wasn't often that Grissom showed any sort of feeling and it worried Nick. It was, however, understandable under the circumstances. Everyone was feeling the pinch tonight. Both of them hoped Lindsey hadn't been picked up by a paedophile but they both had the same thought running through their minds: they were both wondering if she was dead. It was an unbearable scenario but she had been missing for far too long now. The worst was slowly becoming the probable. They knew how these things played out. Abductors often got twitchy after amber alerts were broadcasted. They often killed their victims in an attempt to cover their tracks. Grissom sighed before speaking.

"With Cath out of work I'm short staffed. I want you to come off this case." Grissom studied Nick's face. He was waiting for a reaction and he got it.

"What? Griss! You can't do this! I want to find Lindsey! I _want_ this case."

"I know Nicky, but I need you else where." Nick gave him a level glare.

"Yours and Greg's case?" He emphasised _yours_, feeling the injustice of the entire situation.

"Nick-"

"Fine." Nick scowled, thrusting the file at Grissom and turning to walk off.

"Nick?" the Texan paused, debating whether to ignore him but decided he didn't want the hassle of being reprimanded. Sighing, his hands on his hips, he stopped and twisted back to face him.

"Yeah?"

"Tell Greg I want to see him when you get back. " He looked momentarily irked. "He went to the scene alone."

Nick nodded before he strode off to the locker room to grab his jacket and then headed down to the car pool to book out an SUV. Getting into the silver car he pulled out of the parking garage. He was irritated at being pulled off the Lindsey case but he knew the Greg probably needed his help. Greg had been out of field work for a long time and now he was left as primary on a serial case. Nick understood why Grissom had sent him out to meet the younger CSI but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He was trying to remember the directions Grissom had given him to the crime scene and finally saw the sign for the turn off he needed. Sure he was on the right road his eyes momentarily flickered between the road and his cell as he dialled Greg, lifting the handset to his ear. It rang and rang but no one picked up.

"C'mon." Nick muttered. He was about to hang up when the familiar voice spoke.

_"Sanders," _

"Greg its Nick, I'm on my way up to your scene. Where are you?"

_"Nick? You're breaking up. Hold on, I'll move."_

Nick scowled. What was the point of technology if it didn't work? Clearly it was a problem his end.

_"Can you hear me now?" _

"Your signal sucks, man." He said irritably. "Anyway, I'm on my way up now. Griss is spitting hairs that you went back to the scene with no cops. You gotta get out of there! Seriously, before he has an epi."

_"What? Nick, I can't hear a word you're saying." _

"Just head back to the car and wait for me. I'll be with you in a min-" He broke off as the phone went dead. "Damn!"

It took him a further five minutes to reach the warehouses were the decapitated victim, Kerry Tomlinson, had been found dead. Surrounded by ten foot wire railings, he pulled the SUV through the gate and drove down the main roadway through the facility. After passing several buildings he spotted the Denali that Greg had booked out of the car pool but there was no sign of the CSI. Frowning, Nick pushed the car into neutral and climbed out of his vehicle. He twisted his head from side to side, half expecting the dirty blond man to appear but he didn't.

With a scowl he moved over to the Denali, dialling Greg's cell phone again but it went straight through to voicemail. Rolling his eyes, he tried the door of Greg's car and found it locked. Cupping his hands over his eyes, Nick glanced through the window and saw Greg's radio lying on the front seat. He made a mental note to severely berate him when he finally located him.

Wondering where the hell he was Nick wandered over to the crime scene itself but found the warehouse empty. He shuddered a little glancing at the blood splatter but quickly retreated, heading around the back of the warehouse. He was hoping to find Greg in the immediate vicinity but there was no sigh of him. Feeling slightly worried now he jogged up the walkway behind the building, calling Greg's name. He felt boxed in and slightly claustrophobic surrounded by these huge corrugated complexes but pushed it from his mind, thinking only of locating his friend.

He was just about to head back around the front when he heard a sound. Stepping forward towards the adjacent alley way he saw someone lying on the ground about halfway down. Nick moved cautiously down the alleyway, pulling his radio out and calling for back up as he moved, keeping close to the wall.

As he got nearer, Nick realised who it was on the ground. He ran the last few meters and dropped to his knees at the side of the body, his fingers reaching for Greg's neck. Nick let out a shuddering breath as he felt a pulse flutter beneath his fingers.

Greg was sprawled on the ground, a shallow gash arched from his scalp to the top of his left eye. The wound looked fresh but was beginning to dry on his skin. Nick glanced around to see who could have done this, loosening his gun from his holster as he did, but the area was deserted.

"Greg?" He nudged him slightly, feeling somewhat reassured by the feel of heavy metal in his hand. Nick felt acutely aware of how alone they were out here. Greg was beginning to stir, but he kept his eyes tightly shut as his hand moved to the side of his head.

"Greg?" Nick repeated. Getting no response apart from a groan, Nick tried again and was thankful when his eyes fluttered open. "You ok?"

Greg glanced up at him finally, wincing. He looked bemused and befuddled for a moment before finally registering that Nick was in fact kneeling before him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Greg got slowly to his feet, with Nick's help, leaning on the wall for support. "Where did you come from?"

"Griss sent me…What happened?" Nick asked unable to keep the concern from his voice. Greg blinked heavily, gingerly touching his head and gazing at the blood on his fingers with confusion. Nick pulled a swab from his vest pocket and pressed it to his head. The younger CSI hissed, pulling back from his touch.

"Ouch!" He levelled a glare at him.

"Don't be a baby." Nick chided, pushing the swab back on to his head. Greg winced, taking over from Nick and pushing it to his cut himself.

"So what happened?" Nick roved his eyes over him and noticed for the first time his clothes looked filthy. "Man…you smell, really bad. Have you been rolling in dirt?"

Greg cast a sour look in his direction. "I uh kind of had an incident with a dumpster."

He looked so distressed that Nick forced his laugh down. It was hard but he managed to stifle it. The Texan was brought back by Greg continuing to speak.

"But that's not how I hit my head… I was… processing the car," Greg frowned deeply as he tried to recall the details "and then I heard something behind me. I turned to see who it was and the next thing I know I woke up to your face." He groaned, fingering his wound.

Nick glanced around the area before looking back at Greg.

"What car?"

Greg gave him a puzzled look before turning to where the car had been. It was gone. Frowning he moved over to the area and swung his head from side to side as if waiting for it to reappear from thin air.

"It was here…" Greg muttered, stumbling over to where the car had been. "Where did it go?"

"How hard did you hit your head?" Nick asked.

"Nick, I swear it was here."

Nick pulled his brow tight. Greg was many things but a liar he was not. His insistence forced Nick to become serious.

"What kind of car was it?"

"A uh… a buick… there was blood in it. I bagged a rag..." he glanced around and almost stamped his foot with frustration. "It's gone, all of it. There isn't one scrap of evidence I collected from the car here."

"Maybe someone didn't want you to process the vehicle." Nick said quietly. Greg caught his eye feeling a little queasy. That someone could have quite easily killed him. The question was why hadn't he? He had perfect opportunity to. There was nothing out here, no sign of civilization. No one would have discovered Greg for hours possibly.

Greg suddenly began rooting in his vest pocket. Nick watched him with a mixture of confusion and amusement, wondering what he was doing. Greg swayed on his feet a little and Nick held his hand ready to grab him but the younger analyst was to busy concentrating on his task to notice. With a sigh of relief he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the bloodied swab he had taken from the driver's seat, and studied it, grateful it had not been taken. Raising his eyes to Nick's face he exhaled deeply.

"Well at least he didn't get all the evidence."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

The atmosphere in the lab was palpable. There was no banter. There was no joking. There wasn't even any conversation. Everyone was just getting on with their job. Sara was flicking through the notes Nick had pulled on possible suspects but she wasn't getting anywhere. She surmised they would have to interview everyone on the list just to rule them out. Sara moved over to the computer and began trawling through past cases Catherine had handled, wondering if this was personal. It was going to be a long day after an even longer night.

She glanced over at Warrick who was working through the evidence they had processed from outside Sherry Mathew's house but he didn't seem to be getting any further either. Catherine was perched on a stool staring at the ground, her brow narrowed. It was not the best shift they had ever had and they were well into a double shift now. Everyone was exhausted but no one had even suggested going home. Catherine's hopeless expression had kept them all hard at work. Sara wanted to say something comforting to the woman but she wasn't sure what. She had never been good with conversation and words of comfort and so she settled for casting occasional glances at her, maintaining the silence that had clouded the air.

Days had come on hours ago and were floating around the lab taking up the slack from the grave yard shift, handling any new cases that came in. It seemed like everyone had pulled out all the stops to help.

They were all dragged out of their thoughts by the sound of voices heading up the corridor.

_"…should have gone to the hospital man."_ Sara recognized the Texan drawl immediately and moved towards the glass door of the lab room just behind Warrick.

_"I don't need a hospital. Besides you were the one who told me to stop being a baby."_

The irritated tone of Greg Sanders materialised itself in the form of the mucky blond haired man himself as both him and Nick stepped into view. They both stopped suddenly noticing half the grave yard shift had emerged from the lab to look at them.

Sara was hit by the smell first. Like garbage left in the sun to stagnate. Reflexively she pulled a hand to her nose and studied the two CSIs. Greg was filthy and not in a grubby way but in a I-haven't-showered-in-a-month kind of way. He was also sporting a bandage to the left side of his head, matching the other wound to the right side caused by his car crash. She narrowed her brow but Warrick spoke before she had a chance.

"What in the hell happened to you, man?"

Greg glanced at Nick, momentarily catching his eye before looking back to Sara and Warrick. He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Nothing."

Sara moved towards him, lifting the edge of the bandage to his head and caught a peek at the wound. Greg hissed with a sharp intake of air and pulled back from her.

"Yeah well _nothing_ certainly took a chunk out of you." Sara said. "What happened?"

The younger CSI glanced at the Texan but Nick jumped into to explain.

"You know Greg, he can't go ten seconds without getting into trouble." He said evasively.

"So what happened?" Sara repeated stubbornly.

Nick looked as if he was going to continue but Greg held up his hand up. He didn't know if he would lie about what had occurred in the alley but he wasn't about to let him. He quickly explained what had happened, risking a glance at his colleagues. They were studying him with concern.

"Have you seen a doctor?"

Catherine had come out of the lab and everyone turned at the sound of her voice. She appeared deflated but her brow was wrinkled with worry. Even in spite of the situation with Lindsey she still had room to show concern for her friends. It was typically Catherine.

Greg blushed a little, although he wasn't sure why her stare had brought that reaction upon him. He shook his head.

"I'm fine really, I just want to shower."

Sara gave him an incredulous look. "You should be resting."

He shrugged. "I don't need to. Seriously, I'm fine. Stop fussing." He glanced down at his clothes, wrinkling his nose and handed the swab from the car to Nick. "I'm going to clean up. Will you get that to DNA?"

Nick nodded and watched him wander off toward the locker room wondering if he should have insisted on taking him to the hospital. He had been out cold when Nick found Greg and truthfully he was worried about him. He could have a concussion but Greg had stubbornly insisted on getting back to work and Nick knew there was little point trying to force him. When he turned back to the group they were eyeballing him. He raised his brow.

"What?"

"You should have taken him to the hospital." Sara said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah," Warrick added. "That wound looks nasty. What was he even doing out there without an escort?"

Nick took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. "We're short with-" He broke off but Catherine caught the gist of his thought.

"Because of Lindsey." She finished. Nick winced.

"Cath, I didn't mean it like-" Catherine held up her hand, her face a mixture of silent resolve.

"It's fine Nick. I'm sorry that you guys are stretched."

"Cath, we all care about Lindsey too." She smiled faintly at Nick. The silence was broken by Sara.

"Is Greg really ok?" Sara demanded.

"He said so didn't he?" Nick told her, a little irritated at the cross examination.

She opened her mouth to retort further but their conversation came abruptly to a halt as Mandy Webster and Archie Johnson both came hurrying up to them.

"Hey," Mandy was characteristically chipper but there was an edge of excitement in her stance. Nick recognised it immediately. He often acted the same when he found the missing piece in a case. "I got a match off one of your prints."

"From Sherry Mathew's house?" Warrick asked hopefully.

Mandy nodded. "It belongs to a Dominic Ellison."

Everyone turned their attention to Catherine who shrugged as she took the photo print out of the man from the fingerprint tech. "I've never seen him before."

Mandy smiled. "He works for Eltrevez Finances."

Catherine's eyes widened and then pulled her brow in, lowering her eyes back to the photograph. "Mike works for Eltrevez Finances."

"Sherry's fiancée?" Nick asked somewhat surprised by that revelation.

The strawberry blond woman shrugged. "It doesn't suggest foul play. Dominic Ellison could have been to Mike and Sherry's house and transferred his prints then."

Nick sighed. She was right. If he was a work colleague it wasn't unrealistic to think the prints could have been put there on a prior visit but Archie shook his head.

"I'm not so sure," The Asian AV tech began, "I started doing some digging around and I found Dominic Ellison has received three payments into his account of $7000 over the last six months."

"Do we know who these payments came from?" Warrick asked, raising his brow.

Archie nodded. "Mike Calvez."

"Why is Sherry's fiancée paying so much out to Ellison?" Sara questioned.

Warrick sighed. "I think we need to have a chat with Mr Calvez."

* * *

It was dark. There was no sound apart from a constant dripping of water somewhere to the left. The air was dank, thick almost. Heavy. Clinging to everything. Despite the sticky humidness she shivered uncontrollably. Fright had given way to hopeless despair. She was too tired to maintain the same level of fear. Instead she had settled for a numb cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Her hands were bound behind her back and her shoulders ached. Burned with fire from being in the same position for such a long time. A rag covered her eyes but there was a light flickering. She could make it out through cloth. It irritated her.

Light.

Off.

Light.

Off.

She wanted it to stop. Squeezing her eyes shut beneath the material it seemed like forever since she had rested. Exhaustion was overpowering. She would not allow herself to sleep yet. She feared what would happen if she did. Shifting on the cold stone floor she dropped her head back against the wall and exhaled deeply.

She tried to figure out what had happened. She tried to put it into some semblance of order but nothing made sense. She had gone to Jayne's. After that was a blur. She recalled a smell. Sweet… viscous… dizzying. Her head still swam with the after effects. Nausea swept over her in the first couple of hours. Engulfed her almost threatening to push her stomach contents out. It had passed now but she still felt queasy. How long had she been held here? She didn't know. Hours… days… it could have been months. Time had no meaning in the dark. The only thing she had to hold onto was the hope of being found. She needed to keep a tight hold on that. It was the only thing keeping her going at the moment.

* * *

Once he had showered, Greg changed into some clean clothes. He was just stepping back into the locker room to put his dirty clothes into his locker when Grissom stepped into the doorway. Greg inwardly groaned as he caught the supervisor's expression. Running his fingers through his damp hair, he focused his attention on locking it back up rather than looking at his boss.

"I heard you had an incident at your scene."

Greg winced. "It was nothing."

"Have you seen a physician?"

"It's not necessary. Really, I'm fine."

He thought Grissom was going to berate him further but instead the older man questioned him about the case. Greg sighed with relief. He didn't want to explain the ins and outs of what had happened. Partly because he felt stupid for putting himself in that situation. He should have radioed in for help as soon as he saw the car.

"I left the swab with DNA, we should have a result soon." He sighed. "Any news on Lindsey?"

"A few leads. Nothing concrete." Greg nodded, running his tongue over his lips. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. Grissom seemed to have that effect on him.

"Keep me updated?"

"Of course." Grissom half turned to leave but stopped. "Greg? Rules and procedures are there for a reason. Remember that next time."

Greg felt himself flush from his ears down. He sighed as Grissom left and sagged against his locker. It could have been a lot worse. All things considered Grissom had gone fairly easy on him but he still felt a bite in his reprimand.

He made his way down the corridor towards DNA, pushing the glass door open and stepping into the familiar lab. Wendy Simms, the dark haired tech, glanced up at him from the scope. Black smudges marked under her eyes indicating she had been awake almost as long as everyone else from grave yard.

"I thought someone was supposed to be covering your shift so you could go home and sleep." Greg stifled a yawn as he leaned against the desk. Wendy merely sighed and followed his yawn with one of her own.

"There's no one to cover."

"What happened to the replacement Ecklie was interviewing?" Wendy shrugged.

"You'll have to ask him." She sighed deeply. "I take it you want your results?"

"You managed to get them done?" He asked, not wanting to badger her for them. Everyone was working so hard. No doubt DNA was backed up with piles of evidence to wade through.

Greg was surprised when she nodded and fished for the report before handing it to him. "Your sample was male. I got a hit through CODIS. It belongs to a James Ashcroft."

Greg read over the information. "Prior for robbery, served five years… thanks Wendy."

"Just doing my job."

Greg left DNA and went to find Nick. He finally located the Texan in the break room. From the looks of it he had come in to grab some coffee and fallen asleep, his elbow resting on the arm of sofa, his head pressed against his hand. Greg carefully nudged him and after a moment his eyes fluttered open. He looked momentarily disorientated.

"Sorry." Nick apologised. Greg shrugged. Everyone was running on empty. "What have you got?"

Greg lifted the report. "We got a match on the blood from the car."

"Wanna go check it out?" Nick asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up a little straighter.

"I thought you would never ask."

* * *

Grissom went to talk to Mike Calvez with Brass whilst Warrick, Sara and Sofia headed down to Eltrevez Finances to talk to Dominic Ellison. Catherine had remained at the lab although it had taken a lot of coercing, and down right threats to get her stay. Grissom had gone so far as to tell her she would destroy the case if she came. Reluctantly Catherine had agreed to wait behind but it had not been an easy conversation. Grissom never liked conflict but it was always difficult to butt heads with co-workers. Especially when that co-worker was Catherine. She was so strong minded at times.

Knocking on the front door of Sherry Mathews house Grissom and Brass stood back and waited for an answer. After a couple of seconds the tall blond Mike Calvez himself answered the door. He frowned a little but then arranged a smile.

"Captain Brass, Mr Grissom. Have you found Lindsey?"

Brass shook his head. "Can we ask you some questions Mr Calvez?"

He opened the door to admit them and led the two law enforcement officer into the living room, offering them a seat. Grissom flicked his eyes around the semi-familiar room before settling his gaze on the man in question.

"So uh…what can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We just need to clarify some details." Brass gave him a thin lipped smile.

"Well Jayne and Sherry aren't here but I can get them to drop into the PD when they get back."

"Actually Mr Calvez it's you we wanted to talk to."

Calvez looked puzzled but years of working with criminals told Grissom it was a forced reaction, as if he had expected them to question him.

"Me? Why?"

"Do you know a Dominic Ellison?" Brass studied the man carefully.

"The name doesn't sound familiar."

"He's an IT tech in your company." Brass counted.

"It's a big company. I don't know every person who is on the pay roll personally." Mike said, giving the detective a small glare.

"Did you ever see him at work?"

"Possibly. I never really spent much time in IT."

"What about at home? Did he ever come here?"

"Definitely not."

"So if you don't know him that well," Brass said, "then how do you explain $21,000 going into his bank account from you?"

Mike paused, his face blanching. He quickly pulled himself together but both Brass and Grissom had seen the look.

"I owed him some cash." He said somewhat evasively.

"That's a lot of money to owe someone you barely know." Grissom spoke softly but his words had an effect. Mike's eyes flickered from side to side, looking anywhere but the two men.

"What were you paying him for?" Brass asked.

"What does it matter? It's a private affair."

"We found Dominic Ellison's prints outside your house. Care to explain?"

Mike blinked, fiddling nervously with his hands. "I don't know."

"There's a lot you don't know Mr Calvez." Brass' tone was peevish.

"Was he blackmailing you?" Grissom asked. The suddenness of the question took the blond man by surprise. He stumbled over his words.

"I… I… of course not." He said finally finding his tongue.

"Mr Calvez this will be a lot easier for you if you just tell the truth."

The man glanced down at his feet his brow narrowing, the internal conflict evident on his face. Finally he sighed deeply.

"I'm a senior partner in my company. Dominic found out some compromising things about me, was threatening to tell the CEO."

"So you paid him off?"

"Yeah." Calvez took a shuddering breath. "I thought it would stop there but he kept sending me threatening letters, emails, phoning me. Said he would tell Sherry."

"What did you do to piss him off?" Brass asked.

"I'd rather not say. It's private."

"This is a criminal investigation. You no longer have the right to privacy."

Mike Calvez levelled a glare at the captain but shrugged before answering.

"I was having an affair with his wife." Mike actually blushed as he said it. Grissom thought he looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"So you really pissed him off." Brass rolled his eyes.

"I guess so."

"These threats from Ellison?" Grissom began, "Where they aimed at just you or your family as a whole."

"Does it matter? The guys a psycho."

"Just answer the question, Mr Calvez." Brass interjected, losing his patience.

"A couple of days ago he said he would tell Sherry if I didn't pay him another ten grand. I told him to go to hell. I was sick of playing games. That was the last I heard from him."

Grissom narrowed his brow, his mind taking in the information he had just been given. His eyes roved around the room finally stopping on a picture of Jayne with her stepfather and mother. She had soft blond hair, cut short around her face.

"Jayne and Lindsey look very similar." The entomologist noted. Brass frowned at him but Grissom continued to aim his gaze at the blond man. "Did Ellison ever threaten to harm Jayne?"

Mike blinked as he realised what was being implied. "You think he took Lindsey thinking it was Jayne?" he sounded disturbed.

"It's a possibility." Grissom conceded.

"You must have really pissed this guy off." Brass muttered. "I'll get on to Sofia, Gil. She's headed over to Ellison's home now."

"Thank you." Grissom responded as Brass got up and moved into the hallway to make the call but he didn't take his eyes off the man sat before him. Mike was dragging his fingers through his hair, his expression a mixture of horror and bewilderment.

"Do you really think he could have taken Lindsey?"

"It looks that way."

Calvez rubbed a hand over his chin, his eyes wide. "He wanted Jayne… just because of some stupid affair?!"

Grissom quirked his brow and sighed deeply.

"Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned… apart from when a husband finds out you slept with his wife."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen **

Eltrevez Finances lay on the sixth floor of a huge office complex in the centre of Vegas. Warrick fiddled absently with his ID badge, twisting it through his fingers as the blond Sofia Curtis and brunette Sara Sidle stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the floor they wanted.

Warrick was overly anxious for some reason. He guessed it was because this was the first real lead they had had regarding Lindsey's disappearance. He wanted to break this case. He was worried about the length of time it was taking to find her. More importantly he was worried about the statistics of the whole thing. After forty two hours missing statistically she should be dead. The text books said that was what happened in abduction cases. It was rare to find anyone alive after that length of time. Most suspects panicked and killed their victims. Warrick hoped this wouldn't be the case. It didn't bear thinking about. He cast his eyes to the panel above the door of the elevator and watched the LED numbers climb.

2…3…4…5…6.

A ping sound accompanied the doors sliding open and the bustling sound of a busy office filtered through. Warrick stepped out into the lobby, his eyes roving around the unfamiliar scene.

Directly in front of the elevator was the reception desk. The dusky pink lacquered surface was splashed with metallic lettering stating they had in fact arrived at Eltrevez Finances. Beyond the desk was a series of offices with glass walls. Each one was similarly furnished with a filing cabinet, desk, chair, and matching plant.

Rows of clones.

Warrick watched as the occupants worked away, making deals, scrawling endlessly at their tables. He was glad he had never been stuck in an office. He wasn't sure he could stand the monotony. The daily grind. To sit at a desk all day pushing paper would have driven him insane. He enjoyed the challenge of being out in the field. Fitting all the clues together. Looking for the needle in the haystack. It made life interesting. Whenever he left the lab and stepped into a scene he didn't have a clue what he was going to face. Warrick liked the unpredictability.

Realising Sara and Sofia had moved over to the reception desk Warrick broke his thoughts and wandered over to join them just as the blond haired detective was asking to see Dominic Ellison. Warrick took the moment to study the receptionist as she picked up the phone and dialled.

She was in her late twenties with sunny blonde hair pulled back off her face pristinely. Her pinstriped suit was neatly pressed and gleaming. Even her make up was perfectly applied. She muttered a couple of things down line before hanging up.

"Mr Ellison is off sick."

Warrick cast a glance at Sara but she was busy studying the receptionist intently.

"How long has he been off for?" Sofia asked.

"The last two days according to his supervisor."

"Does he have an office here?" Sara inquired. Warrick knew why she was asking. She wanted to process his work space for any clues that might link him to Lindsey.

"He shares space with another employee."

Sara glanced at Warrick. "I'm going to need access to his work area." She said tossing a warrant in front of her. The girl dropped her eyes to it and nodded.

"Of course." The receptionist got back on the phone again, no doubt calling her supervisor. The group moved away from the desk momentarily, huddling together.

"I'm going to process the office." Sara said. "Do you and Sofia want to head over to Ellison's house?"

"Are you sure?" Warrick asked. It wasn't that he didn't think she could handle an office suite, just that he didn't want to run out and leave her.

"Warrick, I can handle processing one room." Sara told him with an amused expression.

"Yeah, I know it's just-"He broke off. It wasn't worth even explaining. "Just give me a call if you find anything. I'm on my cell."

"Sure."

Sofia dropped her hands to her hips. "I'll leave an officer with you."

"Thanks."

Warrick and Sofia left Sara talking to the CEO of Eltrevez finances and headed over to the west side of Vegas. As they drove they relayed details of the case, trying to search for anything they might have over looked. After a while Warrick sighed deeply.

"Hey," Sofia glanced over at him, feeding the steering wheel through her hands. "We'll find her, you know."

"I just feel helpless." He tapped his fingers on his thigh, hours of frustration manifesting itself in a twitchy restlessness. "I don't know how much more of this Cath can take."

Sofia shifted her gaze to him again but didn't speak. She wasn't sure what to say and so merely expelled the contents of her lungs in a rapid breath.

The rest of the drive was silent and it was with some relief when they finally pulled up outside the small bungalow type house. Getting out of the passenger side Warrick took a moment to study the building.

Similar to all the other houses surrounding it, it was covered in wooden cladding that seemed to have been painted numerous times over the years. However it obviously hadn't been done recently as the white paint was yellowing; flaking and cracked in places. The front garden, although reasonably maintained, was not filled with flowers as were the neighbouring properties and it had an air of depravity about it, despite its surroundings. It was a stark contrast to the adjacent houses.

Pushing the thigh high wooden gate open, Sofia and Warrick strolled up the path towards the front door. Sofia pulled her sunglasses off and tucked them into the v of her white shirt before lifting her hand to rap on the door which was slightly ajar. She paused hearing banging coming from inside. Warrick glanced at her, a tingle of adrenaline rushing through him as she unbuttoned her holster and removed her weapon. He followed her lead and did the same, waiting to see what Sofia would do next. Carefully she pushed the door open with her foot, shifting the metal handgun between her fingers.

"Mr Ellison? LVPD." Sofia called out, her eyes darting everywhere. "Your front door was open."

Warrick stepped slowly into the living room of the house behind the blonde haired detective, his heart pounding. He wasn't used to going into the fray like this. Generally he waited for someone else to clear a scene and then when it was safe he entered. Being on the front line, so to speak, made him a little uncomfortable. In fact he could hear his blood thumping painfully in his ears. Readjusting his grip on his weapon he tried to focus on the room they had stepped into but truthfully he was doing nothing more than following Sofia's back.

"Mr Ellison?" Sofia tried again but the house remained deathly quiet.

Fear is a strange thing. It either renders you paralysed or makes you do impossible things. Warrick had been anxious when he entered the house of Dominic Ellison but he was not afraid. With that mind set he was ready when a dark figure leapt seemingly out of nowhere.

Everything became a blur of confusion as Sofia hit the ground with the force and surprise of the unjustified attack, her gun skittering out of her hands. Warrick was already moving before he had even thought about.

With hindsight caution would have been a better companion at this time but Warrick lost all sense of protocol, even all thoughts of his own safety disappeared in a myriad of fury. His gun forgotten the black man rushed at the shadowed figure and like a bowling ball he hit a strike.

The two men went down in a tangle of arms and legs, scrabbling on the floor like a pair of school boys in the playground. Something hard connected with Warrick's face but he was too pumped on adrenaline to feel the full effects of the blow. He swung wildly and was grateful when his own fist hit something solid. He had no idea where his gun had gone but concentrated on pounding the man beneath him, hoping to subdue him.

Within a second everything changed. Something sharp hit the side of Warrick's head sending his vision swimming. Instinctively he brought his hand to his head, feeling the warm oozing of blood pouring through his fingers. On his knees he used his free hand to balance, trying to get to his feet but his legs seemed to have a mind of their own. They trembled under his weight.

Clink.

Warrick stopped everything, including his own breathing. It's astounding how a sound can instil so much fear into the mind. Just a small noise. Nothing over powering. Nothing loud. But the subtle metallic pull back of a gun being cocked was enough to dizzy him. Warrick didn't move. He didn't dare to turn around and see the gun he knew was being levelled at his back. Instead he closed his eyes tightly and braced himself for the pain he knew was going to come.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen **

Greg was quiet.

He was thinking over things. A mistake by all accounts. Thinking only made the headache that was developing behind his eyes worse. Rubbing his temples he glanced out of the window of the Denali watching trees and street lights rush passed.

The last seventeen hours had been intense. Lindsey's disappearance. A decapatitated body he thought was Lindsey. Falling into a dumpster. His attack in the alleyway. Not to mention he had barely recovered from his car crash. It far too much for anyone to deal with. Greg was feeling the pressure intently. He wanted this shift to end. He wanted to go home knowing Lindsey was safe, crawl into bed, and sleep for the next week. If he closed his eyes tight enough Greg could almost envisage himself tucked up warmly beneath his blankets. In truth right now he would settle for something properly to eat. That sandwich had been the worst thing he had ever tasted. He made a mental note to lodge a complaint with Grissom about the quality of the food in the vending machines.

"You ok?" Nick's voice broke him out of his daze.

"Just thinking."

"Did it hurt?" Nick quipped. Greg cast him a sardonic glare but laughed a little as his head throbbed, reminding him of the migraine that was settling over him.

"Actually yes."

"So what were you thinking about?"

"About everything." He sighed. "About Lindsey. About this serial case. About how tired I am. About my landlady."

Nick snapped his head to him, his expression a mixture of amusement and disturbed wonderment. "Your landlady? She hot? Tell me she is Greg 'cause otherwise that's just weird."

Greg pulled a face and scowled. "God no! Not like that. I'm supposed to be resigning my lease this morning." He glanced at his watch noting it was nearing noon. "Scratch that. I was _supposed_ to be signing my lease two hours ago."

He dropped his head back onto the headrest and gazed aimlessly through the windscreen. This was not the longest shift he had ever worked by any stretch of the imagination but it felt like he hadn't seen his bed for weeks. He was emotionally and physically drained. In some ways he was glad Grissom had pulled him off Lindsey's case. It wasn't that he didn't want to find the girl – he did – it was just that this whole situation brought back painful memories of his own past; things he would rather have left buried. Greg found his mind wandering to those terrifying hours spent in the container waiting to die at the most inappropriate times. This was one of those times. He had no will to recall those thoughts and feelings in front of Nick. Especially when they were on their way to a crime scene. He needed to focus. Serial killer… that was all that should have been in his mind right now but he couldn't stop it drifting.

"Greg?"

The younger man snapped his attention to the Texan. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"Sometimes it's hard to let go of the past, isn't it?" Nick murmured softly.

Greg blinked, wondering if his emotions had been that obvious. He sighed. Nick of all people knew what it was like to deal with a horrific event; after all he had been buried alive but it didn't quell Greg's sense of unease. He hoped Lindsey wasn't experiencing anything as barbaric as he did. With an involuntary shudder Greg turned his gaze to the window.

"Greg? What happened to you in the…?" He broke off wincing. "It's not the same as Lindsey."

The mucky blond man twisted his neck to look at the shaven headed man sat in the driver's seat.

"I know." He spoke quietly. "It's just… hard. Lindsey… she's fifteen… just a kid. It's not fair that this is happening to her."

"Hey, they'll find her." Nick said firmly but he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself rather than reassure Greg.

"Do you think James Ashcroft will be our suspect?" Greg moved the conversation on. He didn't want to dwell on his past and he had a feeling Nick wouldn't drop it if he didn't do so first. Thankfully Nick took the bait.

"Well you found his blood in a car no more than twenty meters from the crime scene."

"It could be coincidence." Greg countered.

"There's no such thing as coincidence. We just need to keep an eye on the game, look at the information we have."

"Is this going to turn into a Grissom speech about following the evidence?" He quirked his brow earning a snort of laughed from Nick.

"Hey, we're here."

Greg glanced up, scanning his eyes around the block they had pulled in to. Nick parked the car up next to the side walk and the two men got out, heading round to the trunk to collect their kits. There was a patrol car and unmarked police SUV, shadowed underneath the looming structure of a vast apartment complex. It looked run down, verging on depilated. Graffiti was etched into the outside wall, tags of kids trying to make their mark in the neighbourhood. Greg raised his eye, shielding them from the sun with his hand. Quickly he calculated how many floors it was. Sixteen.

"What number is it?" Greg asked. Nick pulled the address from his pocket.

"Uh… ten twenty three."

"Let's hope the elevators works." Greg grumbled, realising it was probably on the eleventh floor or there abouts. He was too tired to do stairs right now. Nick gave him a grin before heading into the lobby. Greg followed him.

The inside wasn't much better than the outside. The floor was covered with grubby green linoleum and to the left of the door were numerous rows of mail boxes. Greg scanned for 1023 and noted several letters overflowing through the thin slit. It evidently hadn't been emptied for a while or the guy got a hell of a lot of letters on a daily basis.

"I guess that's one way to avoid paying bills." Greg noted.

"Ignorance _is_ bliss." Nick agreed.

Greg followed Nick down the lobby and located the elevator. He sighed with relief, glad that they wouldn't have to master the stairs as the Texan pushed the call button and stepped back, waiting for it to arrive. After a moment the doors slipped open and the two men moved in.

The smell of urine mixed with marijuana was overwhelming. There was a grocery bag in the corner of the cart that Greg thought might grow legs and walk out with them at any point. The stench was horrendous. Greg instinctively covered his nose, standing in the middle. He didn't want to touch the walls.

"Man, how do people live like this?"

"I didn't have you down as a snob, G." Nick laughed.

"I'm not." Greg insisted. "I just wouldn't want to have a tetanus shot every time I came home."

"Yeah it is fairly… dirty."

Greg snorted at that. "Understatement of the century. It smells. Awful. Even dead bodies don't smell this bad."

The metal elevator doors opened on the eleventh floor and the two CSI's began up the corridor. The smell here wasn't much better. A light flickered on and off burning into Greg's brain painfully. It only served to make his headache worse. He was glad when they rounded the corner and came across two uniformed police officers and Detective Oliver Alexander. Greg had worked with him once or twice but the man tended to work day shifts so it was few and far between. The slim man was in his thirties and had short, styled dark hair. Garbed in a smart suit he glanced up as they approached.

"Stokes, Sanders." He said by way of greeting.

"You already detained the suspect?" Nick asked peering around the crowd of law enforcement officers, noticing the door of apartment was open. Alexander pulled a wry face.

"We cleared the scene but there's no one home. Just waiting on you guys to do your magic."

Greg and Nick slipped passed the cops and moved into the apartment. The smell inside was even worse than the elevator and corridor put together. Greg fought with his stomach to keep the sandwich he had eaten some hours earlier where it was. It was a mission in itself.

Strewn around the tiny living area come kitchen were filthy plates, mould growing on them. Take out boxes and empty beer bottles were scattered seemingly wherever they fell. In Greg's opinion that was anywhere but the trash can. The curtains were drawn hastily leaving a small gap through which the sunlight was drifting through but rather than making the room lighter it gave it an eerie feel. It was as if even the sun was tainted by this dank disgusting space.

"Home keeping really isn't this guy's forte."

Nick sighed, looking for somewhere clean to put his case down. Unable to find anywhere he scowled.

"I take back everything I just said to you, Greg. This place is a dump."

Greg smirked. "Now who's a snob?"

Nick cast a look at him and eventually opened his case, pulling out a pair of gloves, snapping them into place. Greg followed suit and began riffling through the layers of crap lying around.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Greg asked, reading through a stack of letters. They were mostly bills, numerous eviction notices, junk mail. Nothing of interest.

"The key to our mystery." Nick murmured from the drawers he was rummaging through.

"You know, you're starting to sound more and more like Grissom with every hour that passes."

"I don't read enough to sound like Griss." Nick said seriously but Greg caught a twitch of his lips.

"What?" Greg feigned surprise. "The discovery channel doesn't have its own magazine?"

Nick's love of animal planet and discovery was well known throughout the crime lab. In fact it had been the source of many months worth of jibes. Greg smiled at that memory. Nick glanced up at him and gave him a sour look.

"I wish I had never brought that up." He grumbled. "Besides your idea of light reading is something along the lines of big asses and scantily clad brunettes."

"I like the pictures."

Greg smirked, moving to the coffee table, sifting through the take away boxes. He almost retched as a waft of stagnant Chinese food hit him. Unable to find anything other than week's worth of grime the two men moved towards the bedroom.

It was just as filthy as the rest of the apartment and contained a double bed, a small set of drawers and a nightstand. There was a layer of dust covering every available surface like a desert of grime. Greg shone his flash light around and glanced at the bed. Nick caught his eye and gave him a mischievous smile.

"No." Greg said immediately.

"Don't make me pull rank." Nick's expression was amused.

"I am _not_ checking that bed."

"You wanted to be a CSI."

"I don't remember signing up for this." Greg muttered irritably.

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

Greg groaned and sighed at the same time but complied. The two men shook their hands out and on three both made a choice. Nick smirked.

"The ALS is in my kit."

Rolling his eyes, Greg gave him a filthy glare before heading into the living area to get the piece of equipment he needed. When he returned to the bedroom Nick was rummaging through the bottom of the closet, snapping pictures of various objects. He didn't glance up as Greg pulled the blanket back carefully but the former DNA tech knew he was probably grinning despite only having a view of his back.

"I don't know what you're expecting to find on this guy's sheets anyway." Greg complained. "I'm not overly ecstatic about being in this bedroom. I doubt he's managed to get any chicks over his doorstep in years."

"It's called being thorough, Greg."

"This is worse than being in a dumpster." He mumbled, pushing the orange specs onto his face and switching the ALS on.

The blue light illuminated the room and with a meticulous eye Greg ran it over the sheets hoping he didn't find anything. He was almost scared of what he would find. You would have to be seriously deranged to sleep in this bed, let alone take your clothes off in it.

Nick straightened up from the crouch he had adopted to search the bottom of the closet and began searching the shelf above the rail. It looked as if James Ashcroft had dumped half the contents of his life behind the swing doors. The phrase _out of sight, out of mind_ seemed fitting as he continued his search. This guy was the dirtiest individual Nick had ever come across.

Moving his eyes across the shelf Nick stopped suddenly as something caught his attention. Pulling out a swab he ran it over the area and studied it. It looked like blood. Dripping luminol over the tip he wasn't surprised when it turned pink. He was, however, puzzled as to how blood managed to get on to the top shelf of the closet.

Frowning he raised his eyes, flicking the flashlight towards the top corner of the closet. There was a stack of material stuffed in the back. Tentatively he prised it out but as he did so something heavy fell. The force of it knocked him backward. He yelped with surprise as he hit the floor, the dead weight crushing him.

Greg heard Nick's cry of alarm and turned quickly, expecting trouble. The Texan was on the ground. He was half covered by a bloodied sheet and to Greg's horror a lifeless body. Nick blinked as he realised what had knocked him down and let out a strangled cry. Greg rushed to his side, unsure of what to do. It was surreal to see a corpse crushing his friend.

Uncertainly he helped Nick to lift the body off him as Detective Alexander and the two uniforms rushed into the room, their guns drawn. The officer took in the scene and put his weapon away. Greg carefully lowered the corpse to the side of Nick and roved his eyes over the face of the male. Despite being in the early stages of decomposition it was without a doubt James Ashcroft.

"I guess we found your suspect." Alexander whistled under his breath as he took in the scene.

"You ok?" Greg turned his attention to Nick who was still lying motionless on the floor. The Texan flicked his eyes to Greg's face, a disturbed and disgusted look crossing his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

One of the uniformed officers went to help Nick up but the CSI barked at him.

"Don't touch me." Nick slowly pulled himself to his feet, careful to touch the floor as little as possible and cast a glance at Greg. "I'm covered in evidence. You need to process me."

Greg had never had to do something like this and was a little worried about it. Nick wasn't a suspect, a victim. He was his friend, his co-worker. He was also covered in a dead mans blood. It seemed wrong. It _was_ wrong.

"Greg?" Nick studied him. Greg frowned.

"What would Grissom say in this situation?"

"I don't know." He responded, holding his arms away from his torso and glancing down at his crimson stained clothes. "But blood is a bitch to get out."

Greg smiled. "Close enough."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N** Sorry for the long assed gap between posts. However, completely not my fault. FF had some kind of epi and wouldnt let me upload anything till this morning. BUUUUT here's my latest chapter all done and dusted. Hope you like. I never really meant for things to pan this way. Having a gun at Warrick's head wasnt in my original idea but I think it worked well and added a nice storyline for some of the other characters. Ultimately I'm quite proud of how this one turned out. Thanks for reviews. Thanks to **BekiC **for the beta and also listening to my endless ramblings about CSIs, murderers, beheadings and kidnappings!

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****Chapter Fifteen**

_Within a second everything changed. Something sharp hit the side of Warrick's head sending his vision swimming. Instinctively he brought his hand to his head, feeling the warm oozing of blood pouring through his fingers. On his knees he used his free hand to balance, trying to get to his feet but his legs seemed to have a mind of their own. They trembled under his weight. _

_Clink. _

_Warrick stopped everything, including his own breathing. It's astounding how a sound can instil so much fear into the mind. Just a small noise. Nothing over powering. Nothing loud. But the subtle metallic pull back of a gun being cocked was enough to dizzy him. Warrick didn't move. He didn't dare to turn around and see the gun he knew was being levelled at his back. Instead he closed his eyes tightly and waited for death. _

Fear is a strange thing. It's a word that carries little weight these days. It's thrown around carelessly to mean a number of inconsequential things. I fear spiders. I fear drowning. I fear heights. Small spaces. In truth the definition of true fear is something more. It's a feeling that threatens to consume even the most hardened amongst us. It starts in your toes, works its way up till it finally settles as a dark, cold sensation in the pit of your stomach. Anyone who says they have been afraid of something does not mean they have been truly terrified. It's a completely different emotion. Not as cavalier. Not as light-hearted. True fear is an emotion that is rarely forgotten. It sits in the mind, like a cancer growing.

On his knees on the living room floor of Dominic Ellison's house Warrick felt the true meaning of fear. He had a gun aimed at his back and a crazed lunatic with his finger on the trigger. The three seconds that had passed since he heard the weapon being cocked seemed like eternity. Longer in fact. You never imagine that your life could end this way, waiting for the fatal blow in what was effectively an execution. Warrick had never given much thought to death. It wasn't the type of thing one thought about on a daily basis, but he had never imagined he would die in this way; on his knees at the mercy of a madman. If he was going to die he wanted it to be quick. He wondered if it hurt being shot. He wondered if Doc Robbins would perform his autopsy. What would his friends make of his murder? Numerous insignificant thoughts raced through his mind in those last seconds. Stupid things. His eyes still closed he waited for the shot. It never came.

"Drop it you son of a bitch!"

At the sound of Sofia's voice Warrick opened his eyes and risked glancing around. Sofia was back on her feet, a purple contusion forming already on her creamy skin. She looked angry. More than angry, in fact she was fuming. She had retrieved her weapon and was levelling it at the suspect, her eyes dark.

They formed a tragic triangle with Sofia pointing her gun at Ellison, Ellison with his gun on Warrick and Warrick still on his knees, holding his bleeding head. Sofia's expression was murderous.

"Well this is intriguing." Ellison sounded amused. "You kill me, I kill him." He gestured at Warrick with his gun. "It's just one big blood bath."

"I said drop it!" Sofia growled, not playing his game.

Warrick had fully turned now and got his first proper look at their suspect. Ellison was short and skinny. Far too skinny to have overpowered Warrick. He wore thick rimmed glasses and his hair was unkempt, sticking out at all ends. He had three deep scratches running down his cheek; defensive wounds, Warrick thought. Someone had fought him off. He wondered if it was Lindsey. He realised he already knew the answer to that question. Warrick was sure Ellison had taken Lindsey.

He wanted to search the house. The need to do so was overwhelming but he still had a gun pointing at him, now aiming at his forehead. With a shuddering breath he flicked his eyes to Sofia, wondering how this was going to play out.

Then, without any warning, gun fire rang around the room. Two shots… then a third, followed by a thud and a yelp. Warrick threw himself onto the ground, covering his head with his arms, his heart pounding painfully in his chest as glass rained down on him, the shards prickling his bare arms.

When the firing finally stopped Warrick risked raising his head a little. Sofia was stood with her gun still pointing at Ellison but the guy was on the floor, his breathing laboured. Blood was soaking through his shirt near his left shoulder. Warrick hastily got to his feet, retrieving his gun from Ellison's side before moving towards the blond woman. He carefully flicked his eyes over her stunned face.

"Sofia?" She didn't respond. "Curtis?"

Her head turned slowly towards him.

"Are you shot?" He asked, concerned.

She glanced down at her body, stunned and shook her head. Warrick gently took the gun from her and reached for her radio.

"Control? This is CSI Warrick Brown."

"_Control here." _

"I need an EMT to 424 Golding Way stat. Suspect down. Multiple GSW."

"_Affirmed. Patrol and EMT on route. ETA five minutes." _

Warrick glanced at Ellison who was bleeding heavily now, his shirt saturated. The man glared at him. Warrick realised he held both guns in his hand. The cold heavy weight of them was almost poetic, justified. He lowered his eyes to them, debating, internally arguing with himself. It would be so easy. Just one shot. He could kill this bastard. Ellison deserved it. He had taken Lindsey. He must have done. If he was innocent why had he attacked them? Why had he levelled a gun at Warrick? Ellison was the only lead they had. Even if he hadn't taken her he knew something about the teenager's disappearance. Warrick was determined to find out what. By any means.

He felt a hand drop onto his arm and swung his head to Sofia. She had seemingly got over her shock at firing her weapon and snapped back to her role. The blond woman was studying him with big blue eyes, pleading almost.

"Warrick?" He hesitated, glancing at the guns, tightening his fingers around them. "He's not worth it."

She spoke softly, so gently that when she took the weapons from him he didn't resist. He took a shuddering breath realising how close he had come to murdering a man.

A deep, guttural laugh from Ellison brought the tall black man back to the room. He spun to face him, his lip curling.

"Something funny?"

"When faced with a monster do you destroy him or let the monster live, hoping salvation will be his." The suspect smiled lowering his gaze to his saturated top. Warrick was sick of games. He wanted Lindsey found and this man knew where she was. He lost his temper.

"Where is she, man?" Warrick demanded.

Ellison laughed a short sharp bark. "Who?"

"You know who. _Lindsey_."

The man shrugged slightly. "I don't know what your talking about." He said between ragged breaths.

Warrick moved before he even thought about it, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him so close that he was staring into his eyes.

"Where is she?"

Ellison groaned at the movement but still managed a grin. "What makes you think I took her?"

"Just tell me where she is!" Warrick erupted.

"You'll never find her." Ellison whispered his eyes sinister.

"You son of a bitch! She's just a kid, what the hell did she ever do to you!"

"Warrick." Sofia tugged him back, her tone filled with an unspoken warning.

"Do you know her, Mr Brown? You seem to have a close attachment to this girl."

"Where is she, Ellison." Warrick persisted. Another tug on his arm from Sofia and he released Ellison from his grip and paced the living room with short steps. "You're going down for abduction already and I swear if you've hurt her… I'll kill you myself."

The shouts of LVPD rang around the house and the room was suddenly infiltrated with law enforcement. Warrick glanced around as the milling confusion settled in. the newcomers to the scene were trying to figure out what had happened. For once Warrick was glad he had his CSI vest on, clearly identifying him. The frame of mind he was in he would have probably done something stupid and ended up getting shot.

Both Sofia and Warrick watched as two medics rushed the Ellison's side and began patching him up. Warrick wasn't content to stand still any more. He had to do something. Pulling a set of gloves from his pocket he began processing the scene. He moved like lightning through the rooms of the house half expecting to find Lindsey sat in a corner somewhere but the house was empty. He was shutting the doors to Ellison's closet when he heard footsteps approaching him.

"Warrick?" he half turned to Sofia as she appeared at his side. "You should get that head wound seen to."

Warrick had forgotten about that with everything that had happened but as she said it the gash gave a painful throb to remind him. She half dragged him back into the living room towards one of the medics who was waiting to examine him. Warrick ignore him and dropped his gaze to the floor where he had only moments before been on his knees, waiting to be shot. His blood was stained into the carpet. Scowling, he wondered how badly they had compromised the crime scene.

"I'm fine."

"You're dripping blood all over the place." She said taking something from the medic. It took Warrick a moment to realise what she was doing as she pressed a rolled up bandage to his head. He hissed as it touched the raw skin but allowed her to tape it to his skin.

"She's here Sofia, I know she is." Warrick insisted, going back to what he was doing. Sofia gripped his arm, forcing him to halt in his tracks.

"Warrick, the house is empty." Sofia tried to say the words as gently as she could, not wanting to set him off again.

Truthfully she had been a little afraid of his reaction to Ellison earlier. Ok, the guy was a complete son of a bitch and he probably knew more than he was letting on but seeing Warrick hauling ass, screaming in his face… it was disturbing. The tall Vegas man was probably one of the more emotionally charged members of the grave yard team but even so it was rare to see him lose it so completely.

But Warrick didn't lose his temper this time. Instead his shoulders dropped, wilting like a flower in the desert. He had hoped this would be the end of the line. That they would find Lindsey, reunite her with Catherine and all be allowed to get on with their lives. It had not panned out that way.

"I called Grissom. He's on his way up with Sara to process the house." Sofia spoke carefully, watching his face for any reaction. "I can drive you to the hospital."

Warrick shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere yet. I need to talk to Griss."

"And then you'll get checked out?" She pressed. She was worried about the depth of his head wound.

The CSI didn't give her an answer. He didn't want to make a promise he wasn't prepared to keep. Instead he let her lead him back outside and over to the car they had driven to the scene in. Warrick sank against the hood, gingerly touching the make shift bandage taped to his head and winced. It hurt, a lot, but he wasn't about to be hauled off to the hospital to spend four hours in the ER only to be sent home again. He was too engrossed in this case. There was alot that could happen in four hours and nothing was going to take him from it.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later when Grissom and Sara arrived almost simultaneously. Sara appeared at his side first, followed a moment later by the supervisor.

"What happened?" Grissom asked, real concern in his tone as his eyes moved to the make shift bandage on Warrick's head.

Warrick didn't want to explain and was glad when Sofia saved him from doing so. Quickly she reiterated what had occurred in Ellison's house, a dull silence settling over the group after she had finished. Finally Grissom spoke.

"Are you all right?" He levelled the question at both Sofia and Warrick but it was Warrick who answered.

"Fine. I just want to process this guy's house. He knows were Lindsey is. He was practically shoving it down my throat the whole time."

Grissom studied him for a moment until he was satisfied his CSI was really all right before nodding.

"I agree. Ellison was blackmailing Mike Calvez." Faced with a trio of confused looks Grissom continued. "Mr Calvez was more than just friends with Mrs Ellison."

By Sara's expression Warrick realised this wasn't just news to him. She had not been given this information either.

"So Calvez was having an affair with Ellison's wife, but that still doesn't explain why he took Lindsey." Sara sounded baffled.

"I don't think he meant to." Grissom replied. "I think Ellison believed he had picked up Jayne Mathews."

Warrick nodded recalling the photographs of Jayne in Sherry Mathews house. The two girls did look similar and in the dark it would be easy to confuse them. Grissom continued.

"Michael Calvez seemingly dotes on the kid and when Brass and I spoke to Jayne I got the feeling she held a great deal of respect for him also. Ellison probably saw her as the key to inflicting the same pain on Mr Calvez that Ellison had felt when he discovered his wife was cheating on him."

"So what about Joshua Williams?" Warrick asked. "Why did he call Lindsey just before she disappeared? I don't get this guy's part in it."

Grissom frowned, his brow narrowing.

"Williams has an alibi. He claimed he was with a friend in a bar off the strip all of Friday night. Archie pulled the security tapes and it proves he was there till a little past 3am on Saturday morning." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Lindsey seems to have developed a friendship with this man. Maybe it was just a case of coincidence that she rang Williams at that time. I'm starting to think he really did have nothing to do with her disappearance and that this was all orchestrated by Ellison."

Warrick snorted at his choice of words. Friendship? The guy was twice her age and judging from the photograph Nick had found of them both together they seemed to be a lot more than friends. He clenched his fist as he thought about that. His need to pound someone into a pulp increasing with every second that passed.

"That doesn't explain why the guy bolted when he was confronted."

Grissom gave him a patient smile. "Lindsey is fifteen. If we prove he is having a sexual relationship with her Joshua Williams is looking at statuary rape."

Warrick couldn't help the disgusted look that plastered his face nor could he control the frustrated exhalation of breath that he forcefully expelled from his lungs. This whole situation sucked. He wasn't sure how much more he could stand.

"C'mon, lets process." Warrick was twitchy. He wanted to get this over with but neither Grissom nor Sara moved. Instead they merely exchanged glances. "What?"

"I want you to go back to the lab with Sofia." Grissom spoke so quietly that it took Warrick a moment to realise what he had said.

"Like hell!" Warrick snapped. "I'm not going anywhere till I find Lindsey."

"Warrick." Grissom actually growled his name. It wasn't often the man lost his temper but Warrick knew he was in for the berating of the century. "You have just had a gun at your head. You've sustained a head injury. You are _not_ stepping foot in that house."

"Grissom-"

The man cut him off. "No arguments. Lab. Now"

Like a scolded child Warrick skulked off to the car and got in, slamming the door behind him just to prove a point. Grissom gave him a look that verged on disapproving before heading towards the house. Letting his eyes wander he noticed Sofia talking with Brass, her head lowered, her hands on her hips. Brass was holding her gun, checking the barrel. Probably checking to see how many shots were fired. He slid the weapon into an evidence bag before patting Sofia on the shoulder.

Warrick turned away, tugging at his lip trying to calm himself down and for the first time since he had stepped out of Ellison's home his mind suddenly realised what had just happened to him. He had nearly been killed. Warrick had nearly killed Ellison. He held his hands out, palms down. They were shaking. Clenching his fingers into a fist he waited for them to stop.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen **

It had taken Greg a full hour to process the blood and fibres on Nick. The coroner, David Phillips, had been called out to remove the body. As he entered he took in the scene with nothing more than a quirk of his brow. In truth it must have looked quite strange watching Greg pick evidence off Nick, almost like picking tics off a monkey. Nick was plastered in various bodily fluids, a corpse at his feet. He even had dried blood up his face and neck. In fact the body of James Ashcroft had pretty much emptied its entire contents all over him. It wasn't pleasant. Greg flashed his friend a sympathetic smile. It smelt bad enough from where he was stood. He could only imagine how badly the smell was for Nick.

"Is this guy a kleptomaniac of dirt?" David said roving his eyes around the mess.

"Just dirty." Nick responded sourly.

"I like to think of it as extreme feng shui." Greg smiled.

"He's been moved." David stated rather than questioned. Greg nodded, catching Nick's sour expression.

"Kind of had to."

Greg explained quickly what had happened, earning a startled expression from David who was peering over the top of his glasses at the closet where the body had been stuffed. David moved further into the room, placing his kit on the floor and crouched down beside the body. James Ashcroft was face down on the floor, half covered with the sheet. They had tried not to move him as much as was physically possible given the circumstances. With a small sigh David pulled out the equipment required and stuck the long metallic probe into the body. Silence filled the room as the digital reader climbed before settling on a figure.

"Well rigor has worn off and from the liver temp I'd say your vic died about five days or so ago."

Greg pulled a face. "Before Marcus Rowley was hanged."

"So that makes him our second vic," Nick mused.

"Yeah. After the stoning of James Faulkner." He winced. "That means the suspect kept Ashcroft's car for almost a week, blood all over the seat in order to use it to drive to Kerry Tomlinson's scene. Why risk using it in another crime?"

Nick shook his head. He didn't understand it either. Greg continued to meticulously remove all the evidence he could find off his co-worker and friend as they talked over the problem.

"What do you think was the COD super Dave?" Nick asked curiously. Greg stopped processing Nick to listen, equally as intrigued.

David studied the body further, rolling it slightly to get a look at the underside. "Stabbing. He's got multiple wounds to the torso and it looks like his throat was slit." He turned to the victims arms, rotating them to look at the underside. "He's got ligature markings and defensive wounds. Did you see his hands?"

Both CSIs shook their heads. They hadn't really given the body much attention. They had been too consumed with securing the evidence on Nick, not wanting to miss anything. Greg knew Nick felt bad about the fact he had inadvertently destroyed a crime scene. Not only that they were supposed to wait for the coroner to release the body before touching it. What had occurred here today had already stomped on every single protocol in the handbook. The only consolation was that it was neither Nick's nor Greg's fault.

"He's got burn marks on the palms."

Nick winced but Greg was baffled by it.

"Burn marks? From grabbing something hot?" Greg asked.

"Maybe... they look like… crosses."

David caught both their eyes as Greg moved from Nick to study the hands of the victim closer. Sure enough seared into the pale flesh was the shape of a cross. The skin was inflamed around the edges of the burns indicating it was done when he was alive but the centre of the crosses were black, probably full thickness burns. Greg found himself cringing. Forcing himself back over to Nick he continued to work as David moved the body.

"It's all very Spartan." David said as he pulled the zip up on the black bag.

"Spartan?" Nick inquired, his gaze flicking to the coroner.

"Like ancient civilizations, Nick." Greg sighed. "I thought you were a geek in school."

"Not all of us were on the chess team." Nick grinned earning a scowl from the Californian man but their banter was halted by David continuing to talk.

"Spartan boys were taken into the military service at the age of seventeen. They used to squeeze wood in their hands to harden their palms but it marked them for life as soldiers."

"Like… branding?" Greg threw out tentatively. He was still trying to get his head around the whole situation with no luck.

"Kind of. I guess so." David pursed his lips pensively. "It identified them from others. Spartan warriors were very proud."

"That doesn't explain why it's on our vic." Nick chipped in, holding his left arm higher so Greg could work on the side of his torso.

"Hey, I give you the theory; you guys are the ones who work it out."

"Thanks super Dave." Nick muttered resentfully.

Dave headed back to the morgue, leaving Greg and Nick in the bedroom. Greg's mind was rolling over the information, trying to figure out where this new murder fitted in. Unable to do so he decided it would have to wait till they were back at the lab. Right now he had to focus on the task at hand. Nick held his arm away from his right side as Greg collected the last fibre he could find, sliding it into a bindle and sighed.

"You done?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah. You sure you're ok?" He eyed him carefully. The Texan sighed glancing down at his soaked clothes.

"I'm fine. I just want to get this scene done and get back to the lab to change."

"Go now." Greg told him with a shrug. "I'll finish up here."

Nick gave him a look that said he wasn't going anywhere. "Last time you were at a scene on your own, Greg, I found you unconscious on the floor."

Greg waved his hand negligently. "That was different. I was completely on my own then. Alexander is here, I'll be fine."

Nick half debated taking him up on the offer. He felt filthy, soiled. The body, despite being in the early stages of decomposition hadn't completely emptied of fluids and it seemed like the movement of the corpse had brought everything to the surface. Unfortunately that surface had been all over Nick. He was itching to get out of his denims and shirt. After a moment he shook his head. His clothes were technically still evidence. He shouldn't really leave the room with them on.

"I've got some slacks in the back of the Denali."

Greg raised his brow.

"I take it that was a go-fetch hint." Nick just smiled. "You know one day, Stokes, there's going to be another new guy and I'll get to stamp my feet and throw demands around."

"I didn't stamp anything and I certainly didn't demand."

"You didn't exactly ask either." Greg said pointedly.

"Ok you two love birds, do you think you can hold off on the domestic for a moment?" Alexander had re-entered the bedroom and had his arms crossed over his chest, his expression amused. Nick and Greg both scowled at him at the same time earning laugh from the detective. "That was cute."

"Did you want something, Oliver?" Nick snapped. His patience was wearing thin. All things considered Greg didn't blame him.

"Yeah, actually I did." Detective Alexander replied, still grinning. "PD just called in an abandoned vehicle three blocks from here. It's registered to Ashcroft."

"Let me guess," Greg said with a wry flick of his lip, remembering the car from the alleyway. "Blue Buick."

Detective Alexander looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." Greg answered glancing at Nick "You know this is starting to make less and less sense."

"You're telling me." The Texan muttered.

"I don't understand why Ashcroft's car was outside the scene of our third – no fourth vic?" He corrected himself. "The guy's been dead for days."

Nick pursed his lips together. "Maybe our suspect had already killed Ashcroft, dumped him in the closet and simply used Ashcroft's car to drive to the warehouse to behead Kerry Tomlinson."

Greg pulled a face. "You're assuming Kerry Tomlinson was already there."

"Is that a ridiculous idea?"

"Well that complex is in the middle of nowhere. Its hardly seems like the place for a young girl to hang out. I'm guessing he probably drove her out there or met her there maybe?"

"That suggests a personal link between Tomlinson and our suspect."

Greg shrugged, unsure of what it meant. "Even so, that aside, it doesn't explain how James Ashcroft's blood ended up in the car. He had to have been in there at some point and from the amount of blood on the seat he was bleeding pretty badly when he was."

Frowning Nick studied the floor for a moment, his brow creasing.

"So Ashcroft was killed somewhere else, driven back to his apartment and dumped here."

"But why go to all the trouble of getting Ashcroft into the car, driving him back here, getting him inside without being seen and stuffing him on a shelf? Why not just leave him where he was killed?"

"I didn't say anything about this was logical." Nick replied with a lop-sided smile.

"Well whilst you and Einstein here are figuring it out," Detective Alexander began, "I'll call the crime lab, see if I can get someone out to process it. You two are going to be in this dump for a month."

Nick wanted to protest, go and look at the car himself but right now this was more important. He thought about sending Greg but decided against it. They were going to be here till well past swing shift started as it was. If it was just Nick working Ashcroft's apartment he was going to be here till the end of grave yard.

"I think Adrienne is covering days. See if she's available." Nick told the detective. He wanted someone he at least trusted to work the secondary scene. Alexander nodded and disappeared back into the living room, his voice drifting through as he made the call.

"Nothing about this case is right," Greg started. "Four murders. The first was a fortnight ago, Ashcroft, five days ago, the next two within two days of each other. I mean, I know these things usually increase but four murders in two weeks seems more that a little killer happy."

"Mmmhm." Was the only sound Nick made. Greg recognized the deep penetrating gaze that had settled over the man. He was mentally fitting the jigsaw together.

"I mean," Greg continued, not wanting to lose his train of thought. "He stabbed and burned crosses onto James Ashcroft's hands, stoned James Faulkner, tied and hanged Marcus Rowley, beheaded Kerry Tomlinson, … where is this heading?"

Nick snapped his gaze to the younger man, his brow knitting. "Truthfully? I have no idea."

"There is one piece of the puzzle missing however."

"What?"

"The words." Greg stated simply.

At each scene they had found a word. Judas, whore, scum had been at the other three. Greg almost didn't want to find what had been left here. Nick glanced around the litter strewn floor and pulled a face.

"If our killer has left us any notes here I doubt we'll ever find it."

Greg adopted a wry smile. "You might be right. Unfortunately we still have to look."

Nick nodded. "You uh want to get me some clothes first. Please?" He added as an after thought. Greg sighed and nodded.

"I'll be back in a minute."

Heading back to the Denali, Greg instinctively shielded his eyes as the bright sunlight hit him. It was such a contrast to the dank apartment. The fresh air was such a reprieve to his lungs that he was almost loath to return upstairs. Pushing that from his mind Greg opened the trunk and had just located a set of blue overalls when he heard footsteps approaching him. Spinning round he came face to face with a tall pallid man. He had a completely shaved head and was wearing a long parka type coat. Around his neck hung a camera. Greg knew immediately what this guy was.

He screamed reporter.

"Sir? Are you working inside the building?"

He had a southern lilt to his voice but Greg couldn't place the region. He handed him a business card. Greg dropped his eyes to it. Frank Grace. Las Vegas Star. He rolled his eyes. He hated being right.

"Uh… yeah. If you don't mind, sir, I need to get back to work."

Turning his back on the man he locked the trunk. The reporter was still stood behind him however.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Greg knew the first rule of any scene was never to give out information to the press and he had no intention of breaking this. He had enough problems without Ecklie wiping the floor with him for messing up protocol. Apologizing to the man he began walking back to the block but the man continued to trail after him.

"Mr Sanders," He said, grabbing him by the arm. Greg stopped, glancing down at the tentative grip he had on him before raising his eyes to the man. Frank Grace gave him a simpering smile before releasing Greg's arm.

"I can't tell you anything." Greg said firmly.

"But it's linked to the other murders, the ones earlier in the week?"

Greg had reached the lobby door to the building now and paused briefly, his hand on the frame.

"If you want a statement call public relations." Greg told him with a cold smile. "I'll even give you the number."

"I'm just doing my job." The reporter protested.

"Yeah? So am I." Greg pushed the door open but was grabbed again. He was beginning to lose his patience now.

"Just tell me one thing. Is this a serial case? Should the people of Vegas be worried?"

Greg scowled, glancing down at his hand for the second time. "That could be construed as assault, Mr Grace."

Without a further word he shrugged the reporter off and headed into the building. Detective Alexander glanced up as he stepped back into the apartment but was still on the phone. He gave him a small nodded in acknowledgement as Greg slipped passed him into the bedroom.

"Thought you had got lost." Nick complained as Greg handed him the overalls.

"Try accosted."

"By who?"

"An upstanding member of our local media." Nick pulled a face that said he was clearly as unimpressed by this as Greg was.

"Wanted a story?"

"Yeah," Greg muttered. "And he wasn't too bothered about maintaining courtesy to get it."

"You didn't tell him anything…?"

Greg gave him a level stare. "I'm dense, Nick, but not that dense. I told him to call PR."

Nick gave a relieved nod but said nothing more on the matter.

"Thanks." He said indicating the overalls.

"No worries, man. I'll uh make myself scarce so you can change."

Greg handed Nick a clear evidence bag to put his soiled clothes in and wandered back into the living room. Detective Alexander had just hung up his cell and was tucking it back into his the pocket of his suit.

"I'll leave you two officers here. There's no one else to cover so I'm going to have to head down to Ashcroft's vehicle."

"Thank you." Greg said. "Any updates keep me or Nick posted."

"Sure thing."

As Alexander left Greg moved over to the living room and began trying to wade through the mass of crap that constituted Ashcroft's living space. It wasn't easy. Taking snapshots and bagging anything he thought was of use Greg had barely cleared one small corner of the living area when Nick re-emerged garbed in blue overalls, his own clothes in the bag Greg had given him.

"I'm never going to get this smell off me." He grumbled, sliding the evidence into his case and straightening up.

"Eau de corpse. It's cheaper than most cologne, just not as easy to get hold of."

Nick's expression was sour and Greg couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Nick muttered something under his breath that he didn't quite catch before going to work himself.

"This shift is never going to end." Nick said louder.

"I don't even think doctors work this many hours." Greg concurred.

"I am definitely putting in for some vacation time after this." He grumbled.

Greg merely smiled before going back to his task. He was exhausted but tried to keep focused. It wasn't easy. Greg had been awake since yesterday morning, over twenty four hours. It was taking its toll on him. He longed to be curled up in bed but he knew it would be hours before that happened. Friday seemed like an age ago. It seemed impossible to think that this time yesterday he had been coming from his penultimate therapy session, that he had been redoing his proficiency, got reinstated… Friday was a blur. A distant memory. Saturday afternoon didn't look set to be any different.

Greg's thoughts were broken by Nick's cell ringing. Pulling his gloves off Nick dragged it out of his pocket.

"Stokes." He listened for a moment and then spoke again. "We're working a scene, Griss, we'll be a couple of hours at leas-"

He broke off suddenly causing Greg to glance up and watch the one sided conversation with mild apprehension. His tone didn't sound good. Nick's brow furrowed as he continued to listen before finally speaking again.

"We'll be back in twenty." Was all the Texan said before hanging up.

Greg straightened from the crouch he had adopted to process.

"Problem?"

"Griss wants us back to the lab now." Nick frowned deeply. "There was an incident at Warrick and Sofia's scene."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N** ok sorry for the horrendously long time in updating. This week has been such a busy one and I dont think I'll be able to update till next week either. Unfortuantely - as often happens - real life has got in the way. I have so much work to do for university and a deadline that is hurtling towards me like a speeding train. Will try and write some more in the intrim but cant promise nowt. Anywho cheers for reviewing the last chapter. Hope you like this one.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen **

Grissom and Sara had turned Ellison's house upside down and inside out and come up with nothing. There was not a scrap of evidence to link him to Lindsey's abduction apart from the half hearted confession he had given to Warrick. If Dominic Ellison had taken her he had been careful about it. Grissom felt the frustration as a knot behind his eyes. Rubbing his thumb and forefinger across his eyebrows he tried to brush the emerging migraine from his head. It didn't work.

Turning back to his task he pulled out the trash can and began rifling through it. Never a pleasant job but it seemed even more unpleasant today. Finding nothing other than a couple of empty boxes and some old food he put it back and straightened up as Sara entered, her hazel eyes roving around the room.

"Find anything?" Grissom asked. He wasn't surprised when she shook her head.

"Not a goddamn thing. You?"

"No." Grissom admitted with a sigh.

He rarely slept for more than five hours a night but even he had to admit he was drained. He stifled a yawn, his face twitching with the attempt but Sara saw it.

"Tired?" She inquired moving closer.

"Yes." He conceded. There was no point in lying. She would see right through it. "I don't think he kept Lindsey here." Grissom moved the conversation on. He didn't want to dwell on his own personal issues. There was plenty of time for sleep when this was over with.

Sara eyed him carefully for a moment but then spoke. "Neither do I. The house is too clean." Grissom nodded, glancing around the kitchen for a moment. "Where is he keeping her then?"

The older man sighed. "I'm not sure. Maybe we're assuming too much."

"How so?"

"Well we're assuming Ellison took Lindsey because of the situation between his wife and Mr Calvez but that does not necessarily mean he abducted her. We're running before we can walk, Sara. We're letting our personal feelings over rule what the evidence is telling us."

"We don't really have any evidence." Sara concluded.

"Exactly." Grissom finished.

"But he told Warrick-"

The entomologist cut him off. "Forget what he told Warrick."

"You think Ellison is innocent?" Sara looked perplexed.

"Not at all. But we need something more than what ifs and maybes."

Sara understood. They needed hard facts. She nodded. "Ok, then we need to find something to link Ellison to Lindsey."

"Does he have any other residences? Garages? Storage?" Grissom asked.

Sara pulled the documents on Ellison from her pocket and read through them.

"No. Just this house." She paused glancing up at him, her expression pensive. "But we never checked the wife."

Grissom raised his brow. "You're assuming they still speak?"

"It's not uncommon in affairs. It's easier to blame the other person for the relationship falling apart rather than the spouse."

It was a possibility and one that none of them had thought to look into with her moving to Jersey. They had all written her out of the equation. The first mistake they had made. Grissom mentally cursed himself.

"I don't think we can get anything more from the house. I think we need to go over the key facts and try and figure out what we're missing."

He realised he needed his team together on this one. Maybe together they could pull something from the few threads of information they had. Sara nodded as Grissom pulle_d _his phone out and dialled Nick

_"Stokes." _

"Nick, its Grissom. Where are you?"

"_We're working a scene, Griss, we'll be a couple of hours at leas-" _

He cut Nick off hastily.

"We found Ellison. He pulled a gun on Warrick and Sofia. They're both ok but I need you and Greg to secure your scene and get back to the lab now. I want to go over the abduction case. I need you all there."

There was a long pause before the CSI responded.

_"We'll be back in twenty." _

Heading back to the lab, Grissom called Archie on the drive back and asked him to do some digging around Mrs Ellison. Hopefully he would have something for them when they got back.

Arriving back at the crime lab, Grissom pulled the SUV into a vacant spot and got out followed simultaneously by Sara. Saying a brief hello to the receptionist, they headed towards trace to hand over the few things they had collected from Ellison's house.

Despite the fact the day shift had completely infiltrated the building now, Grissom found both David Hodges and Maggie Tager, the other trace tech, in the lab. She was in her late twenties with honey blonde hair and was completely different from the night trace tech. She wasn't an ass kisser. She was quiet and reserved and just got on with her job. She took the evidence with little ceremony and was already sliding the first fibre out of the bindle before Grissom turned to leave. He didn't dislike the other shifts but he was often grateful for the team he had. They all worked hard and there was a sense of togetherness about them that he liked. He didn't say it very often but he was proud of them. Proud of their teamwork, their resolve, their abilities. Each had their own qualities. Each of them brought something different to the table. Together they were the best. Grissom had crafted them that way. Even Greg. He was the newest addition to the team but he had learnt fast and had a keen mind. Sometimes Grissom felt like a proud father.

Him and Sara were about to head up to the AV lab when he heard familiar voices from the locker room. Heading in that direction instead he found the majority of the grave yard shift in there. As his eyes took in his team he almost started. They looked a mess.

Warrick had his head newly bandaged from Ellison's attack. Greg was sat on the bench next to the black man, leaning forward, his hands clamped together. He was wearing a similar plaster to one side of his head, the other steri-stripped from his car crash. The biggest surprise was Nick.

He had his top off and was rummaging in his locker for a shirt but the Texan's chest was beginning to bruise, a splattering of purple and blue contusions mainly around his ribs.

Somehow or other everyone had got hurt tonight. Even Sara was sporting a contusion to her left cheek from their run in with Joshua Williams. Only Grissom had come unscathed from this shift. His well-structured, able team was falling to pieces before his very eyes.

"What happened now?" Grissom demanded, his voice causing all of them to look up. Nick glanced at Greg before refocusing his attention on him.

"It's nothing Griss." Nick muttered.

"It doesn't look like nothing." He countered, his voice layered with anger at the situation rather than at the man himself.

Nick took a shuddering breath before quickly telling him what had happened at the scene. Grissom knew from Nick's expression that he felt guilty about destroying evidence - and from the sounds of it, it had been an accident - but Grissom couldn't help but think Nick might have completely compromised the scene, intentional or not. He hid his disappointment and moved quickly on. There was nothing that could be done about it now. They would just have to salvage what they could from it.

"What did you turn up at James Ashcroft's apartment?" Grissom asked instead.

Nick sighed, the weight of the scene still clearly on his mind.

"Not a lot." He pulled a wry face. "We didn't really have much time but we found a bloodied sheet. It's in DNA right now but I'm guessing everything we get from it will belong to the victim. The suspect has been too careful up to now."

"The vic also had crosses burnt into his hands." Greg said with a small yawn. Grissom couldn't help but notice how strung out the younger man looked but turned his attention back to Nick. He didn't have time to dwell on things.

"Anything else? Murder weapon? Trace? Fibres?"

Nick scowled a little giving Grissom a moments pause at his reaction.

"Seriously even with an industrial vacuum cleaner and a microscope we're never going to find a thing in that place." Nick said quietly. "That apartment is filthy."

"Even the roaches were in hiding." Greg snorted.

"Anything else?" Grissom pressed, knowing they were in danger of getting off topic.

"PD found Ashcroft's car abandoned not far from his apartment." Nick replied. "Adrienne is processing it now."

Glancing around the room Grissom hesitated and raised his brow. "Where's Catherine?"

"Sleeping in the break room." Warrick spoke for the first time but his tone was subdued. "She crashed out about an hour ago according to Mia."

Grissom couldn't help but feel relieved at that statement. He was worried about the effect this was having on the blond woman.

"Nick, Greg. Hand over the serial case to days for the time being. Adrienne and Jack can handle it. I want everyone in the layout room in five minutes." Grissom turned and left without another word.

This shift had been more emotionally charged than any shift they had ever worked. Everyone had been through so much individually as well as collectively. With a scowl Grissom headed into his office shutting the door on the lab and world.

* * *

The layout room was crowded. Grissom had positioned all the evidence they had collected on the table – a poor amount to say the least – and gathered the team into the tiny room.

Warrick and Nick were stood to his left, Sara opposite him with Wendy Simms and David Hodges. Greg was huddled on the right side of Grissom with Archie Johnson and Mandy Webster. The entire grave yard shift were crammed into a room designed only to hold a few people at a time. Greg felt ever so slightly uncomfortable and more than claustrophobic as he pulled up the only stool in the room and sank on to it. Everyone else was standing but Greg was too tired to fight his fatigued body anymore. If he didn't sit down he would fall down. No one objected to his taking a seat however. He doubted anyone even noticed. Everyone was to busy focusing on the task at hand to give him a second thought.

"Ok," Grissom began, his eyes roving around his team, "let's go over what we know."

He handed Nick a marker pen and the Texan took the hint, moving over to the board on the far side of the room. Pulling the cap off, he poised himself, ready to begin writing when Grissom spoke again. The supervisor didn't disappoint and after a moment he began to relate the information they had collected over the last nineteen hours.

"Mike Calvez was having an affair with Dominic Ellison's wife. Ellison found out and was blackmailing Mr Calvez."

Archie placed a series of papers on the table. "I pulled his bank statements and found a series of payments from Mr Calvez to Ellison for the sum of twenty-one thousand dollars."

"Calvez states that Ellison asked for a further payment of ten thousand dollars but he refused. That was three days before Lindsey went missing." Warrick added. Grissom nodded thoughtfully.

"Ok, so Thursday evening around 7pm Catherine drops Lindsey off at the residence of Mike Calvez and Sherry Mathews." Grissom rubbed a hand over his chin, his eyes on Nick as he hastily scrawled on the board. "Catherine comes onto nights, and undertakes her shift with no problems. She arrives home at around eight to eight thirty Friday morning and discovers Lindsey is missing nine hours later. An amber alert is put out at six forty five pm approximately."

Greg glanced absently at board letting his eyes wander over the information Nick was jotting down, trying to pay attention. He was exhausted and he was beginning to wonder if sitting down had been such a good idea after all. Fatigue was taking its toll. He could feel his eyes getting heavier as the minutes passed. Blinking, he brushed his hair back and forced himself to focus. His momentary spacing out made him miss what Warrick said and by the time he came back to the conversation Sara was speaking.

"According to Sherry Mathews," Sara said, "Lindsey never made it to her house, meaning she must have been taken off the doorstep as Catherine left. Ellison must have been waiting for her."

Greg thought over that. It made sense. He shuddered at the cold, calculated lunacy of it all. It made him feel sick to think that this guy was just laying in wait for her, biding his time until the opportune moment presented itself.

"Mmmhm." Grissom pursed his lips. "He must have got her attention quickly, before she had a chance to knock on the door."

"It seems risky." Warrick interjected, with a shake of his head. "Ms Mathews or Mr Calvez could have come out at any point and seen what was going down."

"Lindsey was distracted." Greg muttered, surprised to hear his own voice. He hadn't meant to speak out loud.

Glancing up he noticed everyone was looking at him. Greg shifted his eyes anxiously at the gaze of his peers and tried to formulate the words in his head. He was tired and thinking hurt but he stumbled on regardless of their looks. Even if it didn't come out right he was determined to make his point.

"Well the phone call to Joshua Williams... Maybe Lindsey never intended to go to Sherry Mathews house. She just wanted Catherine to think that she was staying there."

"You're thinking she rang Williams to meet him?" Grissom questioned, his eyes boring into him. Greg felt as if he was looking into his soul when Grissom gave him that look. Greg nodded and continued his theory.

"Williams declined and whilst she was distracted talking to him the suspect saw his opportunity to strike."

Warrick shook his head. "Lindsey made it back to the door. I found Dominic Ellison's prints on the front window frame."

"So it had to have been a quick grab and snatch job." Grissom mused before turning to Archie. "Did you find anything about Mrs Ellison?"

The Asian tech shook his head. "The only property she owns is a small condo in Jersey where she is currently living at the moment."

"Widen the search." Grissom told him. "We're missing something."

Mandy leaned over the table at the photographs of Ellison's home and frowned, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. Greg studied her for a moment. He recognised that look. He could almost hear her brain working overtime.

"What's up, Mandy?" Greg asked.

Mandy glanced up, her brow still narrowed, but she wasn't looking at Greg. Her attention was focused on Sara and Grissom. "When you searched the house you didn't find any trace of Lindsey at all?"

"Not a thing." Grissom replied, his eyes on the print tech.

"Why?" Sara questioned.

"Did you check the basement?" Mandy asked.

Sara and Grissom exchanged puzzled glances. "There was no basement." Grissom spoke.

Mandy shook her head.

"My cousin used to live on this estate." She pulled a picture of the kitchen. "This wall here," She said indicating a space between the kitchen units were they abruptly stopped, leaving a two foot gap before they restarted again. "There should be a door in that space."

Everyone leaned into get a closer look at the photograph but Grissom turned it to face him and pulled a magnifying glass on it, leaning forward. Abruptly he straightened pulling his spectacles off. All eyes turned expectantly to him.

"Griss?" Nick threw out cautiously.

"There is a discolouration in the paintwork." Grissom said. "Only slightly noticeable on the photograph but it looks like there could have been a door their previously."

Sara took the glass off him and rolled it over the picture.

"I'll call Brass." Warrick said quietly, already pulling his cell out and moving towards the door. "Get a patrol over to the house again."

Sara pulled back and shifted her gaze to Grissom.

"How the hell did we miss this?" She stated, rather than asked.

"Sometimes," Grissom said, "it's impossible to see the wood for the trees."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N** ok my sincerest apologies for the looooong assed absence. I'm SORRY! please forgive me. I had lots of essays and crap that I really didnt want to do but had to. But I'm back now and ready to get this show well and truly on the road! I also need to apologise again because the next two chapters are fillers. Sorry sorry sorry. They are, however necessary to the plot. I also think I swallowed a thesaurus whilst writing this. Anywho enjoy. Will post nineteen tomorrow because I'm mean and because I can : )

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen **

The meeting in the layout room concluded shortly afterwards. Grissom wanted the team ready to roll out to Ellison's house within ten minutes and so everyone had filtered out hastily to prepare. Archie had gone to try and pull blueprints of the house although given Grissom's time constraint Greg doubted he would find anything before it was time to go. Archie was good, but not even he could stop time. However the biggest surprise was that Mandy had been asked to come to the field with them. Greg figured Grissom saw her as their best help whilst they were waiting on Archie. She, after all, knew the houses in the area and if the door to the basement had been bricked up – which it appeared to have been - they were looking for an alternative entrance. The problem was trying to _find_ that entrance.

Needle and haystack sprung to mind.

Warrick's initial search of the house hadn't uncovered the mystery entrance – if one did in fact exist - neither had the police's nor Grissom and Sara's sweep afterwards. Greg wondered if they were looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

He didn't know much about rainbows but as far as he was aware no one had ever found that pot.

Trudging down to the locker room he entered the empty space and sank onto the bench, rubbing a hand over the knots in the back of his neck. He felt bone weary, like he had run a marathon for the last nineteen hours with no breaks.

It was strange. Greg was used to the ridiculously long hours at the crime lab. God, every other shift was a double. Most months he got paid more in overtime than he did for his contracted hours, but this shift was slowly killing him. He had never felt more tired in his entire life.

Physically, he was exhausted.

Mentally was worse.

He had felt more emotions in this one night than he had in his entire career and, like a leech, it was sucking the life out of him. Sometimes he wondered why he had ever left the DNA lab. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the field, hell, he loved it but it was hardly carefree. At one time or another each of his co-workers had suffered because of this job they all loved so much. Nick had been kidnapped, buried alive, Sara had been threatened at a scene by a crazy lunatic in a mental asylum, Warrick and Sofia had just had a gun their faces. Even Greg had suffered so much in the last few months.

He recalled his beating painfully. Memories of Demetrius James flooding him, washing over him like acid until it left bile in his mouth. Despite his protestations his mind finally wandered to the thoughts he had tried to keep buried in a dark pit of denial: his own abduction.

Greg forced those evil memories away, resisting the urge to linger on them and sink into the pool of self-pity. He had come too far to slide back into grief and despair. He focused on his original thought trail: his job.

He had wanted to become a CSI to make a difference. To give closure to families who had lost loved ones, to be in the action. It had seemed so exciting listening to Nick and the others talking about their latest scene. Greg had wanted to be out there with them, helping, but lately it seemed like he was simply looking for a way not to piss people off.

'Head down, and don't attract the attention of the latest psycho who might just take a dislike to you and decide to exact revenge in a brutal manner' seemed to be his motto these days.

Greg missed the simplicity of the lab. His brain seemed to have overlooked the fact he had been blown up in this _supposedly_ safe place. It had happened such a long time ago and as with most traumatic life events, the brain after a while stops registering their occurrence, pushing them into a box in the vaults of the mind, only to be taken out on rare occasions.

At the sound of footsteps Greg glanced up from the bench, his thoughts dragged back kicking and screaming to reality as Warrick wandered in. Greg had always liked Warrick. There was something reassuring about the tall, imposing confident man. Even after what had happened to him earlier Warrick still had that undeniable edge to him, something Greg thought of as the 'Vegas charm'. It was something that could not be practiced, could not be bought, it just _was_.

It was strange really.

Greg knew Warrick as the science nerd but to outsiders Warrick was hardened. Like all people he wore one face for the outside world and another in private.

Walking over and dragging his locker open, Warrick greeting Greg with a brief nod of his head. For a moment neither of them spoke but Greg had never been much for silence. His life was loud. Everything about it was noise. He didn't cope well with quiet.

"With the rush of everything since we got back to the lab I never got a chance to ask you if–"

"I'm ok Greg." Warrick cut him off, staring into his locker as he absently rummaged for something.

Greg nodded, unsure of what to say. Clearly Warrick was affected by what had happened in Ellison's house but the man wasn't willing to talk it out. Greg was ok with that. If Warrick wanted to talk he knew he could, although he guessed it would be Nick he would go to. They had, after all, known each other a long time.

"Crazy shift huh?"

He smiled wryly.

"Nothing like having a gun in your face to make your ass wobble." Warrick said softly.

It was supposed to be a joke but his long drawn out sigh told Greg otherwise. In this job the level one CSI had become accustomed to reading body language before words. It often spoke louder and this was no exception. His entire demeanour told the Californian man that Warrick was putting a brave face on the whole event.

Greg empathised with Warrick's situation. He remembered the gun war he had been a part of with Grissom when he had first started in the field. That had effected him badly enough and no one had been aiming for him but Warrick had been faced with a gun pointing directly at him. It must have been terrifying.

Greg opened his mouth to speak, hoping to throw a little humour on the situation and lighten the mood but a voice from the doorway stopped him before he had started.

"Brown, go fix your hair or something." Ecklie growled.

Warrick gave him a sour expression but pulled out his jacket and slammed his locker door before heading out of the room. He fixed Ecklie with a sour glare as he passed him, but the Lab Supervisor either did not notice or chose to ignore it.

Greg shifted nervously on the bench, suddenly not liking the fact he was sat down. He wanted to stand – something about pride told him he should be on his feet for this - but he didn't want Ecklie to know how anxious he was and so he remained seated and tried his best to look unperturbed.

Sanders." Ecklie's look verged between murderous and irritated. Greg resisted the shudder that sat precariously on his shoulders. "You do know the meaning of a proficiency test don't you?"

Greg inwardly groaned knowing this was going to be bad.

"Yes, but-"

Ecklie cut him off with a wave of his hand, his face contorted angrily. "No buts. You are supposed to be supervised at all times! That does not include you going to a scene by yourself."

"Sir I-"

"Not only did you disobey a direct order Sanders," Ecklie interrupted, "you also sustained an injury. This is exactly _why_ you are redoing your proficiency. You're suspended for five days with no pay and believe me when I tell you you're lucky that's all you're getting! Make sure you hand your ID in before you leave."

With that he strode out of the room leaving Greg alone. Wrinkling his brow, Greg had not thought this shift could get any worse. Clearly he was wrong. Still in shock he forced himself to his feet and brushed his hair back before sagging against his locker. This was the icing on the cake of a crap day. Evidently Grissom hadn't talked to Ecklie as he had said he would. With a scowl and a deeply exhalation of breath, the young man rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes and shrugged into his jacket.

Greg was angry but part of him didn't care. In fact he was almost relieved he was able to go home. He knew he should be more bothered about being suspended but he was too exhausted to let it affect him right now. Dragging his rucksack out of his locker he slung it over his shoulder and trudged down the corridor towards the reception desk, oblivious to the throngs of people hurrying busily around.

He was just pulling his ID badge off to hand to the receptionist when Grissom and Nick walked towards him.

"Are you ready?" Nick asked, straightening his own short jacket into place but Grissom was studying him carefully.

"Going somewhere, Greg?"

"Home." Greg replied with a sigh. He couldn't be bothered to explain what had just occurred but he knew he would end up doing so. Nick gave him a baffled look.

"Greg, we've got a scene."

"And I've got a five day suspension." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone but failed miserably. He settled for a sigh instead. "You guys are going to have to figure this one without me."

"Ecklie?" Grissom questioned with a knowing quirk of his brow. Greg nodded, his lip curling a little.

"I thought you were going to talk to him." Greg shot accusingly at Grissom.

"I forgot." Grissom admitted, pulling a face.

"Wait a minute," Nick jumped in, "Ecklie suspended you?" Nick dropped his hands to his hips, frowning, his gaze swinging between the two men.

"Yeah." Greg muttered sourly. "I'm not only insubordinate but also incompetent."

That still stung, even despite his tiredness. Greg knew he was good at his job. Ecklie was an ass for even suggesting otherwise.

Grissom shook his head. "Go out to the car." He handed Nick the keys. "I'll meet you both there in a moment."

"Ecklie isn't going to budge on this one, Griss." Greg told him.

The entomologist merely smiled, handing his ID badge back to him. "Leave it to me."

Greg and Nick both watched him disappear up the corridor before following Grissom's order to wait by the car. Nick was radiating anger as they wandered towards the main exit.

There was a steady stream of people wandering in and out of the Clark County Crime Lab. Police officers, CSIs, domestic staff; every man and his dog seemed to be milling around. Greg threaded through the crowd, trying to avoid walking into anyone whilst keeping up with Nick's quick pace.

"I can't believe Ecklie suspended you, man." Nick muttered irritably.

Greg shrugged, a little taken back by the Texan's reaction. This wasn't Nick's problem after all but a part of Greg felt gratitude for his support.

"It was bound to happen." Greg said with a sigh. "Griss went against Ecklie's orders. I was always gonna take the fall for it."

Nick grunted. "As if we haven't got enough going on without this."

Pushing the heavy glass doors open, Nick held it for Greg to step through before following him out into the fresh air.

The crime lab was encased by the Vegas landscape, pressing overbearingly onto the small plot. Greg could see various familiar buildings rising proudly on all sides, neon lights flashing despite the fact it was a little after two pm. Vegas really did not sleep.

Despite the fact it was mid February the vague chill in the air was compensated by the bright sunshine. Spring was clearly on its way and with it would come the intolerable desert summer heat that hit Nevada. The breeze was almost a welcoming change.

Greg continued to follow Nick's back across the parking lot, half listening to his continuing ranting which only stopped when they spotted the rest of the team.

They were stood on the back row of parking spaces next to two of the labs Denali's. Warrick was sat in the passenger seat of the nearest one – a large black SUV - but Sara and Mandy were hovering by the second one which was silver. The vehicles glinted in the sunlight, appearing to be shrouded in a ring of light that gave it an almost godly look.

Mandy Webster, the dark haired print tech, looked anxious but a little excited at the prospect of being out of the lab. Having shunned her lab coat she was garbed in a short smart jacket, her glasses pushed up her nose and her hair dragged back into a ponytail.

Sara was leaning against the side of the vehicle, her sunglasses hiding her eyes, her dark hair framing her face. She had her hands dug into the pockets of her jeans and half glanced over the top of her frames as Nick and Greg approached.

"You two do know the meaning of haste, don't you?" Sara questioned, her expression amused. Greg merely muttered an apology.

"Where's Griss?" Warrick asked with an air of impatience, his elbow draped over the side of the open window, drumming his fingers against the door frame. Greg sensed his edginess. He wanted to get over to the house and find Lindsey if she was there. She had been missing since Thursday night. It was now Saturday afternoon. It was far too long.

"He's uh coming." Greg mumbled feebly, not wanting to go into the details of what was happening.

Nick however wasn't content to let it lie.

He began ranting incessantly. Greg became suddenly interested in his feet, he didn't want to see the looks on everyone faces. Even though he knew it wasn't his fault he had been suspended Greg kind of thought they might all blame him. They were so slammed at the moment and with Catherine banned from being involved in this case and on leave from other cases losing Greg was going to incapacitate them even further.

The others joined in with Nick's raving but Greg had stopped listening. He was thinking things over. It seemed like in the last couple of months he had spent more time off than actually in work. It was beginning to wear thin. He just wanted to get on with life but fate seemingly wasn't going to make it easy for him to do so.

It was less than five minutes later when Grissom came strolling towards them. Greg was always amazed by how stoic the man could appear, even when doing something as simple as walking. However all signs of that stoic demeanor were gone now. In fact Grissom looked totally perplexed, his brow tightly creased. Greg felt his stomach turn inside out momentarily. That expression was enough to frighten him. he half expected Grissom to hand him his pink slip, his brain believing that Ecklie must have fired Greg. That was until he saw Catherine. All doubt vanished in that moment. She follow after the supervisor a moment later. She looked furious, angrier than Greg had ever seen her in fact. He didn't mind admitting that he was a little scared of her expression.

"Let's go." She growled getting into the drivers side of the first car, slamming it behind her.

Warrick glanced somewhat apprehensively from Grissom to Catherine who was pulling her seatbelt on next to him. Grissom merely shrugged, climbing into the other car with Nick and Sara.

Greg wasn't sure how to interpret the silence and so didn't move for a moment. Was he still suspended? Had he been fired? What on earth was Catherine so rattled about? Greg knew deep down the only man who had the ability to raise blood pressure to that level was Ecklie but he couldn't believe Catherine would have intervened on his behalf.

The quiet made him nervous.

"Greg, are you coming or staying?" Catherine demanded tetchily, leaning over Warrick to shout out of the window.

A little perturbed at her tone Greg hesitantly climbed into the back of Grissom's Denali without another word. He wasn't about to cross Catherine. Ecklie was one thing, the honey blonde CSI was a completely other ball game. One that had sharp teeth at the moment.

Settling himself into the backseat, Greg glanced at the adjacent car and caught Mandy's eye. She looked distinctly uncomfortable being in the back of the SUV with Warrick and Catherine, who was seemingly ranting at the black man about something - Greg's suspension no doubt. Sighing the Californian man focused his attention elsewhere as Nick put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive was silent for a while, each one of them lost in their own thoughts. No one felt the need to speak or share banter. Everyone was too exhausted to adhere to the usual pleasantries. Sara was sat next to him tapping her fingers on her thighs. Grissom was staring out of the passenger side window and Nick was focused on the road. Greg wanted to maintain the silence but he couldn't. he needed to know what Ecklie had said.

"What uh... what happened?" Greg asked finally. "I mean, I'm coming to the scene so I take it I'm no longer suspended but…"

He trailed off. He wanted to know what had happened but Grissom's silence on the matter made it difficult to question. Not that questioning Grissom on anything was _ever_ easy.

"You have Catherine to thank for that." Grissom replied eventually. Greg frowned baffled by the turn the conversation had taken.

"What does Cath have to do with this?"

Greg was sure he saw a smirk cross Grissom's face but it passed so quickly that he wondered if he had imagined it. God knows he was tired enough to hallucinate.

"Let's just say you owe her a thank you, Greg, and leave it at that."

Knowing he wasn't going to get anything more out of Grissom, Greg gazed absently out of the window. In the grand scheme of things he supposed it didn't matter what had been said, although he wished he had been a fly on the wall when Catherine had confronted Ecklie. He would have given his right arm - and probably his right leg - to watch Catherine giving it to Ecklie straight.

With a smile Greg continued to gaze out of the window. Things were never as bad as you thought.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Dominic Ellison's house was situated in North Summerlin. It was an area Greg knew well but mostly from his work in the field. The majority of the houses were similar in design and the neatness of how it was laid out was a little weird. The entire area was a like a giant clone.

It was a planned community that had been laid down in the 1950s by the Summa Corporation. It had begun as 25,000 acres of real estate back then but it had grown proportionately over the years to encompass Summerlin South. Greg leaned his elbow on the window ledge as the SUV zipped up Summerlin Parkway, cars blurring passed them and closed his eyes. It was oddly soothing to shut them, even if it was only for a couple of seconds. It stopped them burning.

After what felt like a couple of seconds later, something poked Greg in the side. Forcing his eyes open he drowsily came around to Sara's face. He was surprised to realise he had been asleep. Glancing down at his watch he noticed what had seemed like a moment in time had in fact been closer to fifteen minutes. Sara arched her brow at him and smirked at him.

"We're here sleeping beauty."

Greg, somewhat disorientated, blinked the sleep from his eyes and glanced out of the window, trying to get his bearings whilst rubbing the knots from his neck. He made a mental note not to sleep in a position that uncomfortable ever again as he stretched trying to loosen his stiff muscles.

Dominic Ellison's house lay on the west side of NLV airport. Although it didn't hold as much air traffic as McCarran International it was still a hive of activity. As if to emphasise the point as Greg got out of the car a plane growled over his head, sweeping down to land. He could feel the vibrations through the asphalt and wondered absently how anyone in this place slept with the noise of aircraft landing constantly.

He wondered how much louder it must have been nearer the air strip itself.

Turning his attention back to the house, Greg noted the two patrol cars that were parked up on the street and watched absently as the officers wandered over to greet them. A tall dark haired man from amongst the group held his hand out to Grissom and shook it rather formally before dropping his hands onto his hips and glancing at the house. His brown suit was offset with a bright white shirt and purple satin tie and his badge hung on his belt. Greg hadn't seen this man before and so didn't know his name. Luckily he was spared the embarrassment of asking when the man in question introduced himself.

"Detective Freemen." He spoke with a west coast accent and gave them an easy smile.

Grissom's expression was noncomittal as the detective released his hand but he was - as always polite. Grissom had never been good with people.

"Gil Grissom, crime lab." The supervisor replied. "This is my team."

Freemen greeted the rest of them with a slight nod of his head.

"I had my guys do a sweep of the house, Mr Grissom, and the perimeter. It's clear."

"Thank you, Detective." Grissom said sincerely. The incident with Warrick and Sofia must have been playing on his mind still.

"Ok," Grissom turned to face the team who had now huddled on the side walk, all gazing towards the house. Greg caught Warrick's eye and noticed a slight twitch on the man's face. Greg winced inwardly, wondering how hard it must have been for Warrick to come back here only a couple of hours after looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. His attention was diverted however as Grissom began delving out assignments.

"Sara, I want you and Nick to start in the house." Grissom continued. "You're looking for anything out of the ordinary. Anything that could be an entrance. Take Mandy with you."

Greg turned his eyes to watch them as they removed their kits from the trunk of the car and headed towards the house with two of the uniformed officers. Clearly they were taking no risks this time. However the idea of having police escorts now struck Greg as odd since Ellison was in the hospital - probably still in surgery - having the bullets Sofia had pounded into him removed. There was no threat here anymore. Greg doubted Ellison was working with an accomplice. This crime seemed too personal to involve someone else.

"Greg, Warrick," The younger man snapped his attention back to Grissom as he continued to talk, "I want you to start on the perimeter."

"You got it boss." Greg replied.

Grissom turned and headed towards the house followed by Catherine. By the time Greg turned back Warrick was already dragging his equipment out of the trunk. He pulled a long probe out with a flat T shaped head on the bottom that looked like a little like a metal detector.

"Are we looking for gold?" Greg questioned.

Warrick shook his head. It's a GPR."

"A ground penetrating radar? I thought these were used mainly in geophysics."

He vaguely remembered it used electromagnetic radiation to search for things underground. Things like pipes, electrical cables, voids, but forensically it could be used to find bodies. Today it was going to find their basement - if it was still here.

"They are. You've never used one?"

"Never had the opportunity." Greg responded, grabbing his own kit and following Warrick across the lawn.

"Its pretty useful for plotting anything under the ground." Warrick told him as he kept walking, moving closer to the house.

He scanned his eyes over the area, stubbing the grass with the end of his shoe to flatten it before placing the device on the ground closest to the outside wall of the house.

"It should give us a clear picture. Hold this for me, Greg."

"And show us if the basement is there." Greg finished, taking hold of the GPR as Warrick nodded and bent down to unzip the small black case he had brought over. Pulling out a ten inch monitor he switched it on and attached a cable to the side of the device.

"Wouldn't it be better to use it inside the house?" Greg asked, his eyes on Warrick as he continued to hook up the GPR.

Warrick shook his head. "It should give a picture of the whole area surrounding the house -providing we get a good connection with the ground anyway."

Greg watched with interest as Warrick took the GPR from him and pushed the digital dial. He always felt a surge of excitement whenever he watched something new. As tired as he was Greg forced himself to pay attention in case he ever had to use this equipment himself in the future.

"That's some equipment you've got there, Mr Brown."

Greg and Warrick both glanced up at the sound of the voice. Neither of them had heard Detective Freemen come over. The detective was watching the proceedings with as much interest as Greg, his hands casually placed on his hips.

"Haven't seen you around man, you new?" Warrick asked absently, his eyes still on the GPR.

"Just transferred over from San Fran. Been here less than a week. This is my first call out."

Warrick raised his brow, looking at him fully now. "You been a cop long?"

Greg half expected Freemen to take offence at what Warrick had implied but the man didn't. He seemed like a difficult guy to wind up, something that Greg was grateful for. He didn't want to break up a squabble and with tensions running as high as they were there was a possibility that the slightest remark could be taken the wrong way.

"About fifteen years." Freemen said with a shrug. "My wife's a doctor, she got offered a research position out here. Great opportunity for her so we decided to move. Vegas _is_ certainly different."

The tall black man laughed a little at that, some of the tension leaving his limber frame.

"It is at that." Warrick replied. Greg let the breath he had been holding out in slow controlled motion. "You getting anything on the screen yet, Sanders?"

Greg lowered his eyes to the monitor and studied it for a moment. "Yeah. A load of squiggles…"

Warrick gave him a frustrated look and told Greg to take the device from him. Greg complied and took over, letting Warrick take a look at the screen.

"Ok, looks like there is a void under the house."

"Basement?" Greg inquired. Warrick nodded.

"You can tell all that from those… lines?" Freemen wrinkled his brow.

"Yeah." Warrick said, his eyes still on the monitor.

"I don't suppose it shows the entrance." The detective asked hopefully.

"Not exactly."

"So you still have to look manually?"

"Yep."

"So the point of that was what?" Freemen looked puzzled.

"Because now we know the basement is still there and hasn't been filled in when it was blocked off."

Greg resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He almost wished Brass was here and not at the hospital waiting for Ellison to wake up. He guessed Freemen was harmless but Brass didn't ask so many questions. It was irritating when they were trying to work.

Once Greg and Warrick had got what they needed, they packed up the GPR and put it back in the trunk before beginning their sweep of the perimeter. Greg began on the left side of the house whilst Warrick took the right.

The beds in front of the walls of the house were overgrown with wild shrubs and weeds making it difficult to search. Greg figured Ellison wasn't big on landscaping. In fact he doubted anything had been done on the garden in years. It was like a jungle. The lawn was no longer a lawn but a four foot high grassland. With a small frustrated sigh Greg meticulously went to work, brushing the plant life aside, searching for the tiniest scrap of evidence that could help them find Lindsey.

His eyes were tired but he forced himself to be alert. Anything he missed could prove to be the most important clue in the case. He did not want that on his conscious.

However after a scrutinizing scan of the small area he was combing, he shifted along and moved to the next section.

After ten minutes Greg had made it around the back of the building but still not come up with anything. He had almost given up hope of find anything of use when his eyes fell on something. Leaning in for a closer look, he pulled his tweezers from his vest pocket and carefully picked it out.

Snagged on one of the branches was a piece of fibre. It was pale pink, possibly nylon, maybe polyester. It was hard to tell without the correct equipment to analyse it. Greg slid it into a bindle and placed it in his pocket before continuing, hoping Hodges would be able to discover what it was back at the lab. With some luck it would still have epithelia's on it. It was a long shot but the whole shift had become a series of hoping.

Greg moved along to the next section and came to a free standing barbeque. It was rusted from being outside, exposed to the elements and was swamped by long yellowed grass. Greg wouldn't have thought anything of it except the grass around it was flattened, as if someone had trampled it.

Frowning he carefully moved it out of the way and as he did so it revealed a wooden board underneath. Greg studied it for a moment, wondering what he was seeing before finding the edge of it and pulling it up.

It revealed a hole just about bigger than the barbeque; just big enough for a person to shimmy down into it. He should have been surprised by this discovery. At least he felt like he should, but today nothing could surprise him. This was by far the strangest shift he had worked in a long time.

Greg pulled out his flashlight and aimed it into the darkened hole. He could just make out the bottom. A stone floor, it lay about six feet or so down, a puddle of water collected directly underneath the hole. Greg wondered if it would be possible for Ellison to get down with Lindsey. _Maybe he pushed her through first and went after her_.

Rising to his feet he called out to Warrick. After a moment the tall black man appeared around the corner of the house, jogging towards him. He took a minute to study what Greg had found, shinning his flashlight down the hole.

"Get Grissom." Warrick told him as he pulled his jacket off.

"Warrick, maybe you should wait."

Greg wasn't sure how to proceed. Procedure stated the scene had to be cleared by a police officer and jumping into a hole under the ground was definitely not the best way to clear a scene. They didn't know if someone was down there, lying in wait. It was dangerous to go in unprepared. Greg was fairly sure jumping in feet first wasn't the best course of action. Warrick, however, was already pulling his gun out, checking it was loaded before putting it back into his holster and positioning his feet on the edge of the hole.

Greg pulled his phone out and dialled Grissom as Warrick sat on the edge of the hole and lowered himself into it. Scowling Greg watched him as Grissom's voice sounded.

"Griss, I found the hole into the basement."

_"Great. Where are you?" _

"Round the back of the house. Beneath the uh kitchen window I think."

_"Stay there. We'll be out in a minute." _

"There's just a small problem." Greg muttered, turning his gaze back to the hole Warrick had just disappeared down, cursing in his head.

There was a pause.

_"What?" _

"Warrick." Was all Greg said.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty **

Sara Sidle was meticulous if nothing else. She prided herself on her ability to do her job better than anyone else in the department – aside from Grissom maybe. It wasn't that she was big headed, it's just how it was.

Sara had worked hard to get were she was and as such she put her whole heart and soul into her work. At times it was as much as curse as it was a blessing. She found it difficult to distance herself from her job and living and breathing criminals had its draw backs. She had, however, over the years - under Gil Grissom's careful tutelage - found a way to separate her work and real life somewhat but today she found herself inexorably drawn into her job like a moth to a flame.

She knew it was because of the nature of the case. It wasn't a nameless victim, a someone else's wife, daughter, uncle, husband. It was Lindsey Willows. The small blond kid they had all come to know - and in their own way - love. It was kind of hard after seven years not to be close to Catherine's daughter. They had all spent many shifts laughing about the things the girl had been up to, listening to Catherine ranting about her latest misdemeanour and with each hour that passed the cold empty feeling in Sara's stomach got heavier. She had worked far too many missing kid cases to know they didn't always have a happy ending. Sara didn't believe in god but right now she was praying to anyone who would listen for a miracle.

Pushing that thought from her mind she placed her kit on the floor of the kitchen and swept her eyes around the stark room. It seemed like an age ago since she had last stood in this kitchen but in truth it had been less than an hour ago.

Despite having only a limited time in the house – due to the events that had unfolded at Sofia's and Warrick's scene – Sara knew her and Grissom had been thorough. They had lifted prints, checked every inch for fibres, trace or transfer and they had come up with nothing. Although she wasn't opposed to the idea that they could have missed something she doubted they had. Sara didn't make mistakes. Neither, for that matter, did Gil Grissom.

"So this is where the door should be?" Grissom's soft tone brought Sara's attention back to the group that were huddled around the kitchen counters.

Mandy Webster was stood next to the entomologist, already gloved up whilst Catherine was watching the entire proceedings from the doorway as if she was afraid to step inside the room; Sara wondered if she thought doing so would make the entire situation more real to her.

"Yes." Mandy responded nervously, running her hand down the cracked pale blue paint work. "It's hard to tell but you can just make out the indentation where it's been plastered over. See?"

Grissom pulled his glasses on and leaned in for a closer look, his hands clasped behind his back. After a moment he stepped back.

"Nick, why don't you and Mandy start in the living room?" Nick nodded, dragging his baseball cap off and running a hand over his shaved head as Grissom turned back to the print tech. "Observe, take notes, and you can pull prints where Nick tells you. If you see anything that's different in this property compared to your cousin's house tell one of us."

Mandy followed Nick out of the room, leaving Sara and Catherine with the supervisor.

"Gil." Catherine began in a subdued tone. "She's not here. How can she be? That door must have been blocked up years ago and I've never heard of a basement with a second door to it."

She folded her arms over her chest and glanced down at her feet, her brow tightening. Grissom's expression was a mixture of sympathy and confusion. Clearly he had no idea what to say to make her feel better. Sara knew it was the case because her brain was also strangely devoid of anything resembling a reassuring thought. She almost wished Gil hadn't sent Nick into the other room. The Texan would have had all the right words. He would have said the right things. He would have made Catherine feel better.

Sara herself felt redundant. Like she suddenly didn't fit her own skin. As if she didn't belong here, in such a private moment. Uncomfortable with the silence she turned her attention to her kit and pulled out some print strips.

"Cath…" Grissom began somewhat tentatively. Sara almost cringed, wishing she could disappear into her kit. "We'll find her." He concluded finally.

It sounded pathetic even to Sara's ears but it was all they had at the moment: hope. That and the knowledge that they were the best in the country. That alone was better than any words Sara figured. At least she hoped Catherine would see it that way.

The silence that filled the room was palpable. After a moment Grissom went to work, losing himself in the simple action of processing. There were no words of comfort he could offer. Catherine was right. This was a fool's errand.

After a moment Catherine turned and walked out of the room – no doubt to see what Nick and Mandy had discovered - if anything. Sara let the breath she had been holding out shakily. It was never easy being watched at work and this was made worse by how close this case was to them all. Relaxing a little Sara took in the room she was stood in for the second time that day.

The kitchen was probably the largest room in the house. Just over twelve foot, it was almost square with rows of wall and floor units. It was nice, modern, with granite counter tops that offset the beech cupboards perfectly. There was also a breakfast bar with two high stools placed before it. Sara roved her eyes around the floor which was tiled with deep brown stone, her gaze halting on the blood stain she shuddered. It was disturbing to think that is was Warrick's blood. She exhaled deeply, her thoughts suddenly broken by Grissom's phone ringing.

"Grissom." He said, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

Sara turned away and pulled the base cupboard under the sink open. It contained a basket full of cleaning products. Sara pulled it out and rifled through it. Bleach, toilet cleaner, some scourers; it was the usual household crap that everyone kept under the sink. Nothing jumped out at her. It hadn't the first time she looked here and the second time was no different.

"What?"

It was Grissom's tone caused Sara's head to flick around again and pull back out of the cupboard. Even with his furrowed brow she could sense his unease. He hung up his cell and momentarily stared at it. Sara matched his frown, getting to her feet, slowly straightening.

"What wrong?" she asked.

Grissom finally glanced up, his eyes meeting hers. "Follow me." He walked out of the room without another word.

Puzzled Sara trailed after him. He led her outside and round the back of the house. In the overgrown garden, Sara saw Greg crouched down by the kitchen window. He had one hand leaning against the exterior wall, and his gaze was set on the ground. As they approached he turned his head to look at them but Sara's eyes had fallen on what he was so interested in.

By his feet lay a hole; the entrance to the basement. She cast a glance at Grissom but he had his attention on the young CSI.

"Where's Warrick?" He fired the question with no preamble.

Greg dragged his eyes from Grissom to the hole, pulling a face.

"He's down there?" Sara demanded with a flick of her brow.

Greg nodded carefully.

Grissom peered over the CSIs shoulder and scowled deeply. "And so he followed the white rabbit."

Greg looked puzzled but Sara knew what Grissom meant. Like Alice, Warrick had gone into the rabbit hole not knowing what lay inside. She only hoped that curiosity didn't get him killed.

* * *

It was dark.

The steady dripping of water filled the air eerily, echoing loudly in the stillness. Warrick landed on the ground underneath the entrance hole with a splash, his knees bending as the force of it reverberated through his bones. Gaining his bearings he quickly pulled his service weapon free of his holster and raised it, half expecting the shadows to come to life.

Nothing stirred however.

The silence was palpable, offensive even and the only light came from the hole above his head, casting a dim, creepy glow to the underground room. Suddenly aware of how dark it actually was and how little he could see the CSI pulled his flashlight out of his vest pocket and flicked it around the room, his weapon still raised, poised ready for action.

Getting his first proper look around the basement, Warrick appeared to be in a small space, no bigger than eight foot by six. There was a wooden door opposite where he was stood and a mass of boxes, overflowing with scraps of materials and various other junk, stacked against the adjacent wall. Warrick stepped forward out of the puddle he had landed in, cursing the water that was seeping into his shoes, his feet slowly becoming sodden. He hadn't even realised he had been immersed.

"Warrick?"

At the sound of his name the black, Vegas man turned his head and moved back towards the lightened entrance. He must have gone out of eye shot of Greg by stepping out of the water and the younger CSI had clearly panicked. Glancing up through the hole Warrick saw Greg's outline silhouetted against the blue sky, his dark hair spiked in the shadows. Warrick recognised the tone in his voice immediately without having to see his face: he was anxious.

"I'm ok, Greg." He told him reassuringly, turning his attention back to the potentially hostile space he was now occupying.

"Grissom is going to flip when he finds out you're down there." Greg told him with a hint of displeasure in his voice.

Warrick sighed knowing that was the god's honest truth but knew there was little he could do about it now. The distance between the hole and the floor was too high for Warrick to pull himself back out and there didn't appear to be any steps or rope to help him back out. With grim realisation Warrick knew he was stuck down here.

A moment ago it had seemed like the right thing to do - jumping down the hole - but now in cold sobriety, standing in this darkened cold room, Warrick couldn't help but wonder at the stupidity of his actions. If Ellison had been working with someone else and that someone else was in the basement his co-workers could spend the rest of the day picking bits of his skull off the walls. Warrick shuddered at that thought and made a mental note to try his hand at objectivity in the future.

He justified his rash behaviour by thinking of Lindsey. He wanted to find her and he thought she was in the basement. That was why he hadn't thought before jumping in with both feet. At least that was what he was telling himself.

"Warrick?" Hearing his name again, he glanced back up through the hole recognising Grissom's voice before he saw the stoic frame of the man himself. His voice was layered with irritation.

"Griss-"

"Can you get out?" He didn't snap but there was a definite bite in his voice.

"No." Warrick admitted reluctantly.

"Greg," Warrick heard Grissom speak again and saw him turn to the former DNA tech, "there should be a rope in the back of the Denali. Please fetch it."

Warrick knew he was in for the lecture of a lifetime as Greg moved out of his view but his thoughts were broken as he heard something… a faint banging sound.

Spinning on his heel, his gun raised, flash light shinning, he expected to see a figure before him but the room was empty. At first Warrick thought he had imagined the sound but then he heard it again. It was coming from behind the door, a faint thumping.

"Warrick?" Grissom's voice filtered down but this time it sounded concerned.

He wasn't listening however. He was too preoccupied with straining his ears, trying to decipher what the noise had been. For the second time that day he felt his heart hammering beneath his chest, and his blood pounding in his ears. His hands were sweaty all of a sudden and his gun slid in his grip. Warrick readjusted his hold on the weapon, trying to keep it firmly in his grasp, ignoring the tremble in his hands.

"Warrick?" This time he heard Sara's voice.

"There's someone down here." He replied softly, a little frightened of how much noise was being made. If there _was_ a suspect down here they had already alerted him or her to Warrick's presence. With that thought resounding around his brain Warrick moved carefully forward. He didn't know why he was doing so but if there was someone here he wanted it over with. He wasn't going to hide like a rat in a sewer. Besides he was stuck down here. there was no way out but the hole and Greg hadn't returned with the rope yet. He felt like a sitting duck.

Hesitating before the door, he shifted the gun in his grip and tentatively reached out to the handle, pausing before he touched it.

His mind screamed at him to step back, wait for backup. Wait for anyone else who wasn't him to deal with this but he had come too far. He was in too deep. If he was going to be attacked again this time he was going to be ready. Warrick would be the one to make the first shot. With that mindset and ignoring the protests of his colleagues he took the cold handle and twisted it. With a deep breath he nudged it open slowly with his foot and prepared himself for the worst. He never imagined just how bad that worst could be.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One **

Mandy wasn't really sure why she was here. She knew the house layout vaguely but even so she still had no idea why Grissom had deemed fit to bring her along. She didn't have a clue if there was another entrance, only that the one she did know about had been blocked up. It didn't make sense.

She knew she was good at her job, probably one of the best print techs Clark County had ever had but this was not the lab. The field was a whole other ball game. Mandy was used to having print cards and various objects handed to her, but she had never had to search through the din of someone's life to find those prints. She almost felt like a criminal herself, as if she had broken into Ellison's house and did not belong here. Truthfully she thought her being here was probably more of a hindrance than a help. It's not like she was allowed to touch anything. She had no field training and so she was relegated to the doorway with Catherine, left to simply observe the proceedings.

Mandy glanced over at Nick who was on his hands and knees in front of the leather sofa, his flashlight running along the carpet, his nose a mere inch from the floor. Had the situation not been so serious she would have laughed. He looked absurd in that position, his ass in the air, crawling around like a toddler.

"Hey Mandy?" He called her name, breaking her from her momentary daze.

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

Somewhat hesitantly she wandered over to him and crouched down beside him. he was holding a bloodied book in his hand. Mandy roved her eyes over the spine and noticed the title was something to do with financing: unsurprising since Ellison worked in a financers.

"Do you think you can get a couple of prints of that?"

Mandy studied it but did not take it from Nick's hand.

"There's blood on it." She said earning a raised brow from the CSI.

"Is that a problem?" He asked amused.

"No. I just –" She broke off and gathered her thoughts. "Well do you think it was used as a weapon?"

"Possibly." He replied, glancing down at it. "Could just be a paper cut. I mean a book isn't really going to do that much damage as a weapon, especially not a paperback."

"It is quite hefty thought." Mandy countered. "I could always throw it at you and see if you bleed." She offered. He shook his head with a snort of laugh.

"No. Thank you." He cast his eyes back down at the book.

"So what makes you think it wasn't thrown at someone?"

"The distribution of the blood runs only down the outside pages. If it had been thrown it should have splatter down the cover."

"So why print it?" Mandy inquired. "If it could have just been an accident."

"Because at a crime scene nothing is accidental until it's been ruled out." Nick told her. "That and it was hidden under the sofa."

She sighed. "Have you taken blood samples?"

Nick indicated two integri-swabs he had re-sheathed. Mandy nodded, turning her attention back to the book.

"Well it's going to be difficult to get an accurate print with the surface of the cover being bobbled."

"We won't be able to lift anything from it?" He sounded disappointed. She gave him a look.

"I didn't say that. I just said it would be difficult."

She took the print dust from him and printing brush and with expertise she flicked it briskly over the cover. It revealed a number of smudges, broken by the uneven surface of the book.

"Will you be able to do anything with them?" Nick asked.

She shrugged.

"Maybe… Wont know till I get back to the lab and try to fit them together. Maybe I can match a couple of these smudges to get the loops but its going to take some time…"

Nick smiled at her and held open a plastic bag to put the book in. She slid it in obligingly and let him seal it.

"Nick!"

They all glanced up as Greg appeared in the doorway. He had a length of rope coiled around his hand, breathing heavily.

"We need you outside."

Both Nick and Mandy got to their feet.

"What's wrong?" Catherine demanded, her tone laced with apprehension.

Greg caught her eye as if seeing her for the first time. he glanced at Nick and then back at her.

"It's uh Warrick."

"What's happened?" Nick asked, his voice strained.

Mandy had a bad feeling about all of this. The tension was consuming the room like a rain cloud threatening to explode over them.

"He uh… it's probably better if you see for yourself."

The three of them followed Greg outside to where Grissom, Sara and Detective Freemen were stood. Mandy saw the hole but didn't really register what it meant until Nick spoke.

"Warrick's down there?!"

"Did he fall?" Catherine asked quietly. Freemen shook his head.

"Damn fool went down there of his own accord."

"He's down there on his own?" Nick challenged incredulously, flicking his eyes to Grissom but the entomologist remained stoic, his eyes on the hole.

"Like I told your boss, I'm not sending my guys down there. Your CSI acted rashly. I'm not risking their lives." Freemen muttered but trailed off as he came face to face with an extremely angry Nick Stokes.

"So you're just going to leave him down there? Alone?"

Freemen didn't say a word, just glanced down at his feet, his jaw set tightly. Nick scowled and began dragging his CSI vest off.

"Nicky, what the hell are you doing?" Catherine demanded as he handed his cap to Sara and checked his gun for rounds.

"You think I'm leaving him down there?"

"Nick." Grissom's voice cracked like a whip silencing everyone immediately. Nick merely rolled his eyes towards him.

"If it was me down there Warrick would be the first one in. In fact he would do the same thing any one of you."

Everyone sank into silence. Mandy shrank back from the group, folding her arms over her chest. She longed to be back in the lab. She had never realised how emotionally charged the field was and she didn't like it. She felt worried for Warrick, even more so for Nick now that he was planning on going into the basement after him. Truth be told she felt sick to her stomach. This was not going to end well.

* * *

As a CSI there was no denying that Warrick had seen a lot of shit in his time. He had seen people kill and maim each other in the most inventive and disturbing ways. He had spent hours picking little bits of skull and brains off walls and floors. Beheadings, rape cases, abductions, floaters, burn victims… there wasn't a lot he hadn't seen. even so, despite all of his training, his ability to switch his emotions off at times, nothing, absolutely nothing whatsoever could have prepared him for what lay in that room. 

Pushing the door open with his foot he aimed his gun and quickly swept his flashlight around. The room was similar to the one he had just left behind, dark and dank. It smelt of sweat, mixed with urine and stagnant water.

He almost gagged on the smell.

As he moved the light around he noted more boxes stacked up in every available space. There was a set of steps that ran up towards the ceiling: the old entrance to the basement. There was also an old boiler but it was rusted, probably there was new one in the house somewhere. Shelves were scattered around, dust and debris caked onto them. Slowly, his heart pounding painfully, he moved into the room, his eyes darting back and forth, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing jumped out however, something which he was eternally grateful for. Then he heard it again. That damn thumping sound.

Warrick went still. He hardly breathed. He wasn't sure how much more his heart could take. He tried to listen, to figure out where it was coming from but all he could hear was his own laboured breathing. Trembling Warrick forced his feet to move forward and came along side the boxes.

They obscured his view of the rest of the room and so he moved slowly forward, his gun ready to strike if needs be. His eyes burned suddenly, fatigue creeping up on him. He blinked, trying to keep focused and shifted forward again.

As he cleared the boxes he got his first sight of what was making the noise. Warrick nearly dropped his gun. In fact he nearly screamed. Chained to a fat pipe was a small girl. Her dark coloured hair was plastered to her face, her eyes covered with a piece of dark cloth. Her pink shirt was stained with blood around the neck line and her jeans were sodden. She was also sporting a cut to her face and a smattering of severe bruising to her cheeks and neck. Even despite her bedraggled appearance Warrick recognised her immediately.

"Lindsey?" He tried tentatively.

At the sound of his voice she raised her head and seemingly tried to decipher who was there. After a moment she spoke in a small frightened voice.

"Wa… Warrick?"

With a sob of relief almost, he fought back his own emotions and forced himself to keep it together for her sake.

"Yeah kiddo," He managed to get out. "It's Warrick. Just hold on ok? I'm gonna get you out of the there. Just hold on."

Forgetting everything he all but ran to her side and dropped down to his knees, placing his gun on the floor in front of Lindsey. He could smell vomit and noticed a puddle of it on her left side; she had probably been so frightened she threw up.

He felt a new emotion run through him now; anger. He wanted to kill Ellison for this but his attention was diverted back to her.

Trying to remember protocol, knowing they needed to preserve the evidence to get a conviction, Warrick pulled a pair of fresh gloves from his pocket, all the while muttering soothingly it to her.

"Its going to be ok, Linds, just hold on, ok sweetheart? Just hold on. Your mom's waiting for you. Everything's going to be fine."

Carefully he pulled the fold from her eyes and came face to face with the most haunted expression he had seen in a long time. She stared at him for a while as if trying to work out if she was imagining him. Slowly, Warrick placed a hand on her cheek and wiped her tears. His touch seemingly snapped Lindsey out of it and she let out a stifled sob. He wanted to hug her, to gather her up in his arms and reassure her but she was still chained to the pipe. He didn't have any equipment down here to remove it and he knew he was going to have to go back to the hole for help.

"Linds, I need to get some metal cutter to get you out of these chains. I promise I'll only be a second –"

She shook her head fearfully. "Please… don't… don't leave me."

"I'll only be a minute I promise." He repeated, feeling a stab of guilt.

"Don't!"

She all but screamed, her eyes shifting over his shoulder suddenly, and began trembling violently. Warrick naturally followed her gaze and came face to face with the barrel of his own gun for the second time that day. He moved his eyes up the shining metal and settled on the man holding it: Joshua Williams.

"Son of a bitch." Warrick couldn't help the words that escaped his lips.

Williams smirked. "Possibly. How many of your guys are here?"

Warrick debated not saying a word but the longer he kept his silence the more pissed off the man was becoming. Warrick felt frustration knotting behind his eyes. They had spent so long looking for Lindsey and now they had found her he had no intention of letting this bastard get the upper hand. He could hear Lindsey whimpering softly behind him and tried to formulate a plan. His mind, however, seemed to have taken a vacation.

Slowly he got to his feet, purposely placing himself in front of Lindsey. Warrick was taller than most people and at six foot two he practically towered over Williams.

It didn't deter him however. The younger man kept the gun levelled at him, not showing any sign of relenting. Warrick roved his eyes over the man. He looked a lot different since he had seen him in the PD. His face was pale and he was gripping his side, his hand covered in blood. Although Warrick couldn't see the wound he figured it was probably bad.

"I just want to get out of here in one piece." Williams spoke again, a hint of desperation in his voice. "How many guys?"

"Three." Warrick lied. "Including myself."

He didn't want him to get overwhelmed and if he told him there were really nine others above ground that would probably happen.

"Ok, radio them and tell them to leave."

Williams gestured wildly with the gun, making Warrick's heart beat quicken.

"They're not stupid." Warrick said quietly, his eyes on the weapon. "The minute I say that they're gonna know something's up and have half the precinct down here."

Williams mulled this over for a moment.

"Man, what the hell are you even doing involved in all of this?" Warrick demanded.

Joshua shrugged, jumping from one foot to the other, anxiety etched onto his face.

"Money. Ellison comes to me and tells me he'll give me $21,000 to kidnap some kid for him. I figured it was an easy deal. Didn't realise how messy it was gonna get."

"Jayne Mathews." Warrick said softly. "So how did Lindsey end up here?"

"She was a lot easier to catch." Williams said with a roll of his eyes. "I didn't know the bitch was the daughter of a cop!"

Warrick didn't bother to correct him on Catherine's job title. He was too wound up.

"Did you not think Ellison might have noticed you got the wrong kid?!"

"He gave me this photograph that was like four years old or something. They both look similar. It wasn't too difficult to pass off."

"I bet he was pissed when he heard the amber alert and realised you got the wrong kid." Warrick indicated the wound to Williams side. "Ellison do that to you?"

"Yeah. Bastard caught up with me after your guys released me from the PD. Dragged my ass here. Told me I could die down here as well." He kept the gun aimed at Warrick as he spoke. "I don't want to hurt you man but I am not going to jail."

"I'm sure we can figure something out." Warrick muttered, resisting the urge to knock this guy's teeth down his throat.

He had just admitted to kidnap. There was no way this guy was going anywhere but prison. Even if Warrick had to carry him out in a body bag. Williams was not going free.

"I just want to get Lindsey out of here." Warrick said finally. "I don't care about anything else."

"Call your guys off and you can both leave."

"Ok. I just need to get my phone out. It's in my vest pocket."

Warrick raised his hands and inclined his head slightly hoping Williams took it as a defensive stance. The younger man shook his head, stopping Warrick's movement.

"I'm not armed." Warrick told him. "You have my gun."

Williams pulled a face, internally debating what to do before finally nodding. Slowly and purposefully Warrick reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his phone but dropped it. As he bent down to scoop it up his hand found a metal pipe instead. With a sweeping motion he straightened and brought the pipe down on the asshole's head. Williams doubled over, shrieking with pain but he wasn't completely incapacitated. He had managed to stay on his feet.

The gun had been forgotten for a moment but simultaneously both men noticed it on the ground. Williams and Warrick grappled for the gun but it was Williams who got it first, straightening quickly. Ignoring the blood pouring down his face, he directed it at him, his finger on the trigger.

Warrick thought the end was now. It had to be. There was no way he was getting out of this alive. Luck had saved him before. There was no way he was lucky enough to walk away from a gun twice in one day.

He closed his eyes as the shot fired.

He expected to feel pain. Something. Anything.

There was nothing.

After a moment Warrick risked opening his eyes and saw Joshua Williams on the ground, a pool of blood collecting around him, his eyes shut. More than confused and disorientated Warrick shifted his gaze towards the doorway.

Grissom was stood, his gun still raised, his expression unreadable. Nick was at his side, his own face shocked by what had just unfolded. Warrick on the other hand had never been so glad to see the pair of them in his entire life. With a shuddering breath, he dragged a shaky hand over his mouth.

"You ok man?" Nick asked as Grissom moved over to the body of Joshua Williams and bent down, pressing his fingers to his neck.

"Yeah." Warrick mumbled, his eyes still on Williams. "I'm fine."

"He's still alive." Grissom said with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Nick go back to the entrance and tell Freemen to radio for an EMT."

"Make that two." Warrick told him, turning back to Lindsey. "And bring some metal cutters back with you."

Warrick wasn't much for religion but someone had seriously been looking down on him today and smiling. He made a note to go to church once this was all over and do some serious thanking of the powers that be.

* * *

**A/N** Ok just wanted to say a few words to those of you who have reviewed. First and foremost, thank you. I love reading what you guys think of my work, both negative and positive. rather than mailing everyone individually I thought I would do so here. much easier. 

**Saiya** – Yes I did enjoy thinking that Catherine had given Ecklie a bloody good telling off. I almost wish I had wrote it but I have the feeling it would have upped my rating on this to an M+

**Poofgoesyourface** – (lol love that name) Warrick is always lost in FF I find and yet I have so much fun writing him. I think there is a lot of passion in him that seems to get over looked for some reason.

**Rosi** – Thank you so much for saying that! it really means a lot to know people like what you write. I think with this story my writing has really developed. I'm actually quite proud of this one.

**Coconut Dreamer** – haha well you should know how much I love my cliffy's by now! I love to keep you lot guessing. Perhaps that makes me slightly sadistic but meh!

**Missing-Whisper** – I agree. Warrick really doesn't get enough attention. I think it's the same in the show for that matter. If you think about it aside from the first season Warrick's life has been pretty much plain sailing. All I can think is that the writers have something particularly evil planned for him in season 8???

Thanks to GregSanders and Redpixie55 for reviewing chp 17. Special thanks to my beta, **BekiC** whom I drive nuts with making her read my drivel.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two **

Greg felt like he had only been asleep for an hour when his alarm clock started beeping.

With an aggressive thump he silenced it and rolled back into his pillow, pulling his blanket over his head and groaning dramatically. He really did not want to get up. Twenty one hours was probably the longest shift he had ever done to date and with only five hours sleep he still felt exhausted. Ecklie had granted them one reprieve however. Instead of coming in at the usual time of eight he had asked swings to cover till eleven, giving the grave yard an extra three hours rest. Greg was more than grateful for that.

Although he felt better for sleeping it had been difficult to do so at first. His mind had been so full of the events of the last twenty four hours winding down had been a mammoth task. He barely remembered anything before arriving at the lab on Friday night and being told Lindsey had been abducted. He didn't remember going to his therapy session on Friday morning. For that matter he barely remembered anything after Warrick had disappeared into the basement. It was a haze.

He tried to piece together his broken memories to paint a picture of the events.

After Nick and Grissom had gone down into the basement everything had become a bit of a blur for Greg. They had heard the gun shot resounding loudly, silencing them all immediately. Greg had tried to go down after his co-workers but Sara had stopped him - all but restrained him in fact with the aid of Catherine and Freemen. His heart had gone cold. His stomach had turned inside out. He had thought the worst.

His first thought had been Warrick was dead. Had to be. Failing that Grissom or Nick. The maelstrom of thoughts that had circled Greg's mind after hearing those shots was consuming, painful even. It had been too much to deal with after such a long day.

He vaguely remembered Nick appearing underneath the hole, the sigh of relief when he had told them everyone was ok and asking for wire cutters. Greg didn't remember running to the Denali to get them, nor did he remember handing them over. He wondered if Mandy had done it instead.

The next thing he remembered was the emergency services being onsite. Lindsey was pulled out of the basement and put onto a gurney. Greg didn't recall much about that moment, only that she had looked like hell. Catherine had sobbed over her daughter, holding her hand all the way to the ambulance. Joshua Williams had been pulled out next, hooked up to an oxygen mask, his right shoulder sodden with blood.

Greg had watched the carnage with a detached view, not really taking in anything. He barely noticed the other CSIs being helped out of the hole; just that they were all ok. He didn't even register Sara's embrace of Grissom. Truth be told he hadnt registered much from the entire incident.

Greg took a deep breath coming back to the room. his brain was too full to think about that now.

Finally relenting, he begrudgingly kicked his blankets back and swung his legs out, glancing at the clock. 8:32pm. At least he had a couple of hours before he had to be in work. He planned to spend that time eating a proper meal. He had managed to get some toast before going to bed – he had been too tired to even contemplate cooking when he had got back to his apartment – but now he felt the need for stodge.

Still sitting on the edge of the bed he yawned and dragged his fingers through his hair. Slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he headed into the bathroom and turned the shower on. A jet of water hit the tray and after a moment thick steam filled the room. Greg stripped his underwear off and stepped into the cubicle, his muscles immediately relaxing as the heat seeped into them. Letting the water run soothingly over him he ran his hands over his face and proceeded to wash himself.

It was a good twenty minutes later when Greg emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, feeling refreshed. He wandered back into his bedroom and sank onto the edge of the bed, drying himself briefly before pulling some fresh clothes from his closet. He was just stepping into a pair of black jeans when his phone began to ring. Readjusting the towel that was slung around his bare shoulders he picked the receiver up.

"Hello?"

_"Hey man, I didn't wake you did I?"_ Nick's Texan accent sounded clearly on the other end of the line.

"Nah, I was awake. What's up?" he asked as he wandered over to the mirror that hung on the wall over his dresser.

Raking his fingers through his hair Greg winced at how long it was getting now. He really needed to get it cut. He almost laughed at that. He couldn't even find the time to replace his car, let alone get a hair cut.

_"Catherine called. Lindsey's fine. She's got a broken wrist and some bruising but the doc said she can go home in the morning. Thought you would want to know." _

Greg smiled. That was good news.

"Cath ok?"

_"Yeah. Warrick said she sounded stressed but I think she's just glad Lindsey is ok." _

Greg sandwiched the phone between his ear and shoulder and pulled a black shirt onto his slender frame, tossing the towel onto the floor negligently.

"You feel up to getting something to eat before shift?" Greg asked, fumbling with the buttons, his neck still tilted at an angle to hold the phone.

The thought of cooking now was as unappealing as it had been five hours ago. Greg wondered why food always tasted so much nicer when it was prepared by someone else and figured it was probably because everything Greg cooked came out of the freezer or from a menu.

_"Yeah man. That sounds like a great idea. I'll call Warrick, see if he wants to join us." _Nick answered. _"I'll swing by and pick you up in ten mins or so_."

"Cool. See you then."

Greg pulled the phone from under his chin and pressed the hang up button, tossing it haphazardly onto the bed. He quickly ran a comb through his hair before running some gel through it, trying to style it. After five minutes he gave it up as a bad job, it was too long to do anything with, and so settled for merely flattening it.

Heading into the kitchen he was just packing some snacks into his rucksack when the intercom buzzed. Wandering over to it he saw Nick's face on the grainy grey screen and grabbed his keys.

Nick was leaning on the wall outside the building when Greg emerged from the main door of the complex. He looked revitalized – his sleep had evidently done him good – and greeted Greg with a slight inclination of his head before heading over to the car.

They met Warrick in the diner – Frank's Restaurant - across from the crime lab. They were all pretty much regulars in this place as most of the grave yard shift ate here before and after shift.

Greg liked the place despite its faded and tired appearance. It was cheap and the food was always good. Plus, being slightly off the strip, it was usually tourist free. Another bonus in Greg's eyes.

Entering behind Nick, Greg saw the tall black man was sat in a booth already, a cup of coffee sat before him. Garbed in a chocolate coloured shirt, the sleeves pushed up, Warrick was just pouring some milk into a mug as Greg slid in beside him, Nick sitting opposite the pair.

"When you said come for dinner," Warrick began, placing the jug back on the table and reaching for a stirrer, "I thought you meant somewhere classy."

"My mom always said stick to what you know." Nick grinned.

"The amount of time we spend in here we're probably putting half the staff's kids through college." Warrick muttered. Greg smiled.

"It's always good to give something back to the community."

They stopped talking for a moment to order some food from the middle aged waitress who approached them. She returned a second later with two coffees for Nick and Greg before wandering off again. Greg took the milk, poured what he wanted and then handed it to Nick.

"I'm surprised you came." Nick directed at Warrick.

The six foot two CSI pulled his brow down.

"If I had known we were coming here I wouldn't have." He joked, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. "But what do you mean by that, man?"

"I thought Tina would have locked you in the house after everything that's happened today."

Warrick laughed a deep gruff sound.

"Yeah she practically pinned me to the sofa to get a look at this." He said indicating the steri-strips covering his forehead from his earlier altercation with Dominic Ellison.

Nick laughed. "I take it you didn't tell her how it happened."

"Are you kidding? She would have had my resignation on Grissom's desk before I even set foot back in the lab."

Greg wrapped his fingers around the mug, flicking his gaze between the two men. "I guess it's safe to assume who wears the trousers in your marriage." Greg smirked.

Warrick shot a look at him. "You wanna go back to the lab permanently, Sanders?"

Greg and Nick both laughed at his disgruntled tone.

"You know you can always join him, Nicky. Be Hodges lap dog or something." Warrick continued. Nick gave a non-committal shrug.

"After the shift we just had it sounds great. Better pay, more health care coverage, not to mention it's nice and warm."

"Yeah, today was pretty damn intense." Warrick's tone changed, becoming more serious.

"Well everything worked out ok in the end." Nick added, perplexed at causing the reaction in his friend. Greg shifted uncomfortably wondering if Warrick had spoken to anyone about what had happened today.

"I doubt we'll have time to dwell on last night-" Greg frowned, wanting to move the conversation on. "And this morning slash afternoon slash evening." He added with a wry smile. "We've got a stack of paper work to sort through, crime scene photos, not to mention Ashcroft's squat to go through and psychotic serial killer to catch."

Nick groaned, raising his cup and taking a long gulp "You had to say that, didn't you?"

Greg laughed again. "Sorry Nick."

"So Greg," Warrick began, "with all this crap going on we never did get to hear the full story about what happened with you and that dumpster."

Greg flicked a glare at Nick.

"You told him about that?" he demanded incredulously, feeling heat rising in his cheeks.

"I kind of had to man. You smelt to high heaven. Had to explain that one before people started talking about your lack of hygiene." Nick said it innocently but a slight quirk of his lips betrayed his amusement.

The two level threes laughed and in spite of himself, Greg joined in. it was nice to actually have something to joke about, even if it was at his expense. It had all been so stressful. Greg was just glad it was finally over.

"Yeah, yeah laugh it up." He muttered.

"How exactly _did_ you end up in a dumpster, Greg?" Warrick enquired.

"Do we really need to talk about this now?" Greg practically whined.

"I guess not. But it's gonna come up again." He threatened whimsically.

With a shrug Greg continued to drink his coffee. "Whatever, man. It's not even that funny a story."

The conversation momentarily halted whilst the waitress brought their meals over. Greg picked a fry from his plate, not bothering with a fork. He was too hungry.

"What do you make of this serial case?" Nick asked suddenly, shifting his cutlery in his hands.

Greg stopped, the fry almost making his mouth and shrugged. "I have no idea. Cant find a single thing to link the vics together."

Warrick shook his head. "There's got to be something. Did you cross match their backgrounds?"

"Yeah." Greg said. "Nothing in common. They all live in different areas. Don't run in the same circles. Don't even shop in the same stores. Doesn't make any sense."

"Four completely unrelated victims, all dead by the same MO." Nick pondered. "Could just be random acts."

"I don't know." Greg replied, pulling a face. "This guy is methodical, meticulous even."

"He's not that meticulous." Warrick interjected. "He left Ashcroft's car outside Kerry Tomlinson's scene."

Greg frowned deeply. That was true and it was a fact that irritated Greg like a persistant itch that could never be satisfied.

"Yeah, I still don't understand that. Its like he wanted us to find it."

"James Ashcroft died on Monday and hadn't been discovered by the weekend." Nick mused. "Maybe that pissed the killer off. He went to a lot of trouble to commit these murders."

"And every great artist wants his work to be appreciated." Greg murmured in agreement.

The three men fell silent and concentrated on eating, each lost in their own thoughts. They were used to seeing horrific things but this case seemed particularly brutal. Warrick was the first to speak again.

"Didn't you get suspended last night, Greg?"

Greg blinked and then laughed. "Yeah I did. For all of ten seconds." He pulled a face. "I wonder if that still stands."

"I heard Catherine ripped Ecklie a new one right in front of the whole lab about it." Nick said mid chew of his burger. He seemed to be using it now as some kind of pointing device. "From what Mandy told me she pretty much saved your ass my friend."

"Remind me to thank her." Greg said.

He had suspected Catherine had played a large role in getting him off his suspension but he hadn't really had a chance to think about it with everything that had occurred. Greg figured he owed her big time. She could have quite easily got herself suspended – or worse, fired – for being rude to Ecklie.

"Yeah well, Ecklie's an ass." Warrick grunted. "It's about time someone told him a few home truths."

Greg couldn't help but agree. Ecklie was a jumped up little weasel.

They finished their meal, chatting idly about everything and anything. For the first time in hours Greg actually felt normal sat there talking to his friends as if they were just regular guys and the last twenty one hours hadn't occurred

By the time they headed up to the lab Greg felt more settled, almost like himself again. Dumping their stuff in their lockers Warrick and Nick continued to harass Greg about the dumpster incident but Greg wasn't relenting.

They had barely cleared the locker room when Adrienne West approached them. The level two CSI looked tired and was garbed in a pair of forensic overalls, her chestnut hair scraped back into a pony tail.

"Hey." She greeted them with a wan smile which Nick returned. "I heard you guys found Lindsey."

"Yeah, she's at UMC with Cath."

Adrienne shook her head. "Crazy things people do. I'll never understand."

"I don't think we're supposed to." Warrick replied. She glanced down at her watch.

"You guys know you're an hour early?" She said raising her brow.

"Yeah." Nick continued to smile. "You just come back from processing James Ashcroft's car?"

She pulled an apologetic face.

"It's in the garage. Found it burnt out so I don't think there's going to be much to work from. I've done a prelim but Grissom's called swings to process were they found Lindsey so I haven't had time to do much on it. You guys are going to have to finish up tonight. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Nick answered still smiling.

There was something about the way Nick was looking at her that made Greg smirk. He coughed to hide his laugh, rubbing a hand over his lips, his head lowered. Nick and Adrienne both glanced at him confused.

"Anyway," Adrienne said, taking her eyes off Greg finally, her expression still perplexed. "If you guys are clocking on now I might head home."

With all the excitement Greg had forgotten that swings were also pulling a double, having come in early to help days out. She was probably exhausted as well.

"I've left all my notes in the evidence box. If you need me to go over anything I'm on my cell."

With that she took off up the corridor. Nick watched her go before turning back to Greg, dropping his hands onto his hips.

"Spit it out man."

"Spit what out?" Greg asked innocently.

"Whatever's on your mind."

Greg shrugged. "I aint got nothing on my mind, bro." Nick narrowed his eyes at him making Greg laugh harder. Warrick had remained strangely silent, just watching the conversation play out.

"What the hell is so funny?"

Clapping him on the back, Greg shook his head. "You, man. I saw that doe eyed goofy grin you gave her."

Nick raised his brow. "I _did not_ give her a goofy grin."

"Sure you didn't." He grinned.

"Keep out of my business, man. I don't like it."

"Ok Paris and Nicole, calm down." Warrick finally intervened.

"But you do like her." Greg pressed, ignoring Warrick. This was too good to pass up.

"I meant what I said, Greg." Nick threatened.

"Come on Nick, if you like her just spill."

"Greg." Nick shot warningly.

"Fine, be like that." Greg said grinning still. "But she likes you too man."

Warrick sighed. "Will you two cut it out? This isn't high school."

Greg was still grinning but the look quickly faded as the door of Grissom's office opened and the man himself framed the doorway. Grey flecked his hair and he looked as if he had given up on shaving again as a beard was beginning to outline his jaw. He glanced at the trio over the top of his glasses, a file in his hand.

"You're not supposed to be here." Was all he said.

Warrick cast a reproving glare at Nick and Greg before turning his attention to the supervisor.

"We had nothing else to do. Thought we would come in early, look over the serial case."

"It's Saturday night. You couldn't find something to do till eleven on a Saturday night?" Grissom questioned.

"Neither could you, by the looks of it." Nick replied. Grissom's brow narrowed slightly, the only indication that he was disgruntled by the Texans words.

"That the serial case?" Warrick indicated the folder Grissom had tucked under his arm, moving the conversation quickly on.

Grissom glanced down at it as if he had forgotten he was carrying it still.

"No. It's uh, its Lindsey's case."

The three CSIs didn't speak. Greg sensed their unease. He felt it too. After a moment Grissom continued.

"The book you found in Dominic Ellison's house contained blood from Joshua Williams."

"So with that and Lindsey's bracelet that Nick found in Williams' house we got enough to link him to the abduction." Greg said.

"I think him being in the basement pretty much wrapped that one up, Greg." Warrick countered. Greg felt his ears flush and glanced down at his feet.

"Yeah I kinda forgot about that." Greg muttered.

Nick laughed. "Nice observation skills man."

"Swings find anything else?" Warrick asked.

"Mandy managed to lift the smudges from the book. Turns out the prints were Lindsey's. She confirms she swiped him with it in her statement to Brass."

"Any word on how our two suspects are?" Warrick asked, his tone subdued.

Sofia had shot Ellison in his home and Grissom had shot Williams in the basement. Whilst Greg thought they both pretty much got what they deserved he wanted them to live. Death seemed like the easy way out for the two men. He wanted them suitably punished and accommodation courtesy of the State seemed like the best form of punishment in Greg's eyes.

"Ellison got out of surgery an hour ago. He should make a full recovery." Grissom pulled a face. "Mr Williams wasn't so lucky. He was already wounded when I shot him. He's in intensive care right now."

"Have we figured out how this all happened?" Nick spoke softly, his eyes full of empathy. Although Greg had never shot anyone he knew how hard it was to deal with knowing someone could die because of your actions; even if they were done to protect another. He understood the turmoil Grissom must have been battling with and felt a pang of sympathy.

Grissom took a long sigh.

"Williams had been seeing Lindsey it turns out. He was also a friend of Dominic Ellison. The guy approached him, asked him to take care of Jayne Mathews. Williams took the cash and called Lindsey, asking her to meet him. She had Catherine drop her off at Jayne's house and then called Williams to arrange a place. Williams never showed however."

"Yeah his alibi was airtight." Warrick said, recalling the video footage of him in the bar up town.

"Anyway, Ellison was waiting for her, picked her up outside Sherry Mathews house, drugged her and brought her back to his house. I'm not sure what he was planning to do next, I think maybe he was biding his time, getting Mr Calvez worked up before demanding more money from him."

"Yeah I'm sure after Calvez discovered 'Jayne' was missing he would have given that son of a bitch whatever he wanted." Warrick muttered. "He did love his stepdaughter."

Nodding Grissom pulled his glasses off. "Well since you're all here why don't you go to the layout room. I'll meet you there in a minute so we can go over the serial case."

Greg turned to follow but Grissom stopped him. "Greg, a word."

Wincing Greg trailed after the entomologist, receiving a supportive pat on the shoulder from both Nick and Warrick.

Grissom was already seated back behind his desk when Greg shut the door to his office and took the empty chair in front of him. his palms felt sweaty all of a sudden and he was sure Grissom could hear his heart pounding from the other side of the desk. He wondered if he was being handed his pink slip now. Maybe Catherine's words hadn't been enough to prevent the inevitable.

"Ecklie is overturning your suspension. I handed him my evaluation of your performance on the hanging scene. He couldn't argue with it. You did a really good job at the Marcus Rowley scene. Found vital evidence. Did everything right. It was enough to convince a review board that you should be exactly were you are: in the field."

Greg cringed at the praise that was seldom given, his ears flushing. He knew he worked hard but it was nice to have that recognition from someone else.

"Are you ok, Greg?"

The question came so out of the blue that Greg blinked, not really knowing what he was meant to reply. He floundered for a moment until he finally found something that resembled words.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I mean that shift totally sucked but I'm fine."

Grissom smiled. "It's definitely been a strange one."

There was a long pause.

"Is Lindsey going to be ok?" Greg changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on his own personal life.

Grissom sighed. "I think so."

"All this happened because of the actions of one guy. If Mike Calvez had just… I dunno, kept his _little guy_ under control Ellison would never have taken Lindsey and Warrick and Sofia wouldn't have had a gun in their faces." He took a deep breath, trying to halt the words that tumbled from his mouth. Grissom's expression was unreadable however.

"No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible, Greg. Michael Calvez probably didn't even consider his actions nor did he think the consequences of them would be… well all of this."

Greg was unsure of why he was unburdening on Grissom, he was probably the worst person to talk to about personal feelings but Greg needed to talk to someone and he was… well there.

"You know," He began quietly, "I really thought that beheaded girl was Lindsey. When it wasn't I was kind of… disappointed. I didn't think we would ever find her and I figured it was better to be dead then going through anything like what–" Greg broke off with a frown.

Grissom nodded, understanding in his face.

"You didn't want her to suffer like you did with your abduction."

Greg winced at his words. Thinking them and hearing them out loud were completely different.

"That sounds like a terrible thing to say." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "I just… the things Michael Wade did to me… I wouldn't want anyone to go through that and the fact it was Lindsey… It just… I don't know." He sighed, brushing his hair back. "Sometimes I don't like people." He concluded finally.

"The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing." Grissom responded with a small smile. "You did a good job today, Greg and that is all we can ever do; a good job. It's not for us to put reason to action, simply to catch the people who do these things and make sure they are punished. Dominic Ellison and Joshua Williams will both spend a very long time in prison because of the work we have all done. And Lindsey? She will, in time, be fine. As will you." He added with a knowing look.

"We can't dwell on the past Greg, we can only learn from it. Become stronger by not repeating our mistakes." Grissom smiled.

Greg returned it easily, feeling somewhat better for his talk.

"Yeah," Greg said softly. "I guess tomorrow's another day."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N** - Sorry for the enormity of the last chapter. I had a lot to wrap up but I hadnt realised it was sooooo goddamn long. Thanks as usual for the reviews. Hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three **

After his talk with Grissom, Greg and the supervisor headed down to the layout room only to find it already occupied and not by the night shift. Jack Robinson, the level three swing CSI, was stood at the large table, the backlight casting an eerie glow onto his already pale face.

Robinson was in his late thirties, a San Franciscan by birth, a father - of at least a daughter that Greg knew about – and judging by the wedding band that adorned his ring finger he was still married; a rarity in this day and age. Tall and gangly, almost awkward even, his overly smart suit hung off him as if it did not fit. Greg couldn't help but think he looked like a twig dressed in Armani gear.

In a way Robinson reminded Greg of Grissom but with a little of Hodges thrown in for measure. Sauvé, arrogant and a complete ass kisser, he was quickly becoming Ecklie's right hand on the swing shift. He was supervisor in all but writing. However Greg still liked the man. There was something reassuring about him, like he didn't know how to fail. Jack Robinson was relentless – almost on a par with Grissom – in his hunting down of suspects but he was also a little heavy handed which meant he lacked Gil Grissom's grace.

Jack glanced up from the pieces of black rubber he was sorting through, no hint of a smile or even a greeting.

"Conference room." Was all he said before turning back to his task, clearly preoccupied.

Grissom quirked his brow a little but did not make a move to head out of the room. In fact Greg was amazed to see the older man moving closer to the table, his eyes shinning with intrigue.

"Tire treads?" He asked, leaning over for a closer look.

Jack grunted. "What's left of them." As if sensing Grissom wanted more information, the newest member of the crime lab – despite having been on the payroll for over five months that title still stuck - continued to explain. "Big RTA on the highway. Thirteen vehicles including a bus, two eighteen wheelers and motorcycle. Five fatalities so far, three critical and more wounded than even I can remember."

"Messy." Grissom murmured, his eyes still on the table. Robinson pulled a face that belied his feelings on the whole matter.

"Understatement of the century. Half of swing shift is still out there processing with days. It's like the goddamn end of the world."

Grissom gave him a knowing look but what he _knew_ Greg failed to see until the supervisor spoke again.

"You want to lend a couple of my guys?" Grissom asked.

Greg realised what the problem was suddenly. Robinson was pissed off, clearly. Days and swings had helped out nights with the whole Lindsey situation and now they wanted help back. Greg knew that a handful of swings and days had been called into process the basement, evidently leaving them short when this new case had come in. The problem wasn't that nights wouldn't help but that days evidently thought nights should be able to mind read and offer assistance without _being_ asked.

It was illogical insanity.

Greg wondered how Grissom coped with the stupid bureaucratic bullshit that came with being in charge and for once was glad that as a level one he always had someone higher to defer to.

Jack paused, mulling the problem over in his head. Greg knew what he was thinking immediately. Days and swings _needed_ help but if Jack _asked_ for help Ecklie would think he couldn't organise his team and so there was a risk that if a supervisor position came up Jack would be passed off. It was a vicious circle of ass kissing and trying to get noticed. Greg was glad for Grissom and Catherine. Neither of them cared about being the boss's best friend. If they needed help they damn well asked for it.

Jack shook his head, seemingly having reached a decision. "No, thank you."

"If you do, let me know." Grissom said with a patient smile.

"Thanks, but I think my guys can handle it." Jack said returning Grissom's smile but there was a slight hint of irritation in it. "Besides," He continued, "You've still got that serial case to solve."

"Solve?" Greg guffawed, speaking for the first time since entering the room. " Rome wasn't built in a day and this case won't be solved in that time either."

"Well that's true." Jack turned solemn suddenly. "Speaking of which, Kerry Tomlinson – the beheaded girl in the warehouse – her sister came to ID the body this afternoon."

Greg inadvertently shuddered, his mind of its own accord recalling that scene. At the time he had been annoyed at having to take Jack with him because of his proficiency but he did not mind admitting that he had been glad to have the level three with him. Greg had believed it to be Lindsey Willows and been half a step from meltdown when he had seen the headless corpse. If it wasn't for Jack that scene would never have been processed.

"Was the sister interviewed?" Grissom asked attentively. Greg could almost see his ears pricking to listen as if he could glean the smallest clue from the CSIs words.

"Yeah, Vega performed, I sat in." Jack sighed deeply, "Girl was pretty broke up, couldn't have been more than twenty two. Said her sister was a good person and all the usual crap. No enemies, lots of friends. Kerry was your regular party girl, loved by everyone."

"Do you think she's a suspect?" Greg questioned.

Robinson shook his head. "Not a chance, even if she _didn't_ have an alibi. Loved her kid sister to death – no pun intended." Jack added hastily, his expression sour.

Grissom smiled a little at that before he said. "Transcripts of the interview?"

"In her case file." Jack answered Grissom. "Had them typed up right away. Figured you would want to run over them as soon as you got in."

"Thank you, Jack." Grissom said heading for the door followed by Greg.

The conference room lay on the opposite side of the lab, passed DNA and ballistics. Greg took a moment on the brisk walk down the corridor to see who was on shift tonight and saw the attractive dark haired Wendy Simms was already at her desk, going over some paperwork. Ballistics was empty however.

Greg - as he always did when he saw the DNA lab - felt a nostalgic familiarity at what used to be his old home. He did miss it in his own way but both Wendy and Mia Dickerson, the other DNA tech and Greg's own replacement, were fantastic at their jobs. Almost as good as Greg in fact; although he would never admit that.

As they rounded the corner Greg got his first view of the conference room. Through the glass windows he could see Warrick and Nick sat at the table, seemingly in deep conversation. Greg was somewhat surprised – although he shouldn't have been – to see the brunette, Sara Sidle, had joined them already. He hadn't even realised she had clocked on yet. She was watching the two men careful but she didn't appear to be joining in whatever they were discussing.

The three CSIs glanced up as Grissom and Greg entered, the conversation halting. Greg immediately took the empty seat next to Sara, settling into it comfortably whilst Grissom took the head of the table. It felt weird without Catherine, who had taken some time off to be with Lindsey. Although it was not a rarity for one of them to be absent as Grissom tried to work the duty roster so that each of them had at least two days a week off. In practice however it never panned out that way. Over time was a given in this job and days off were like gold dust.

Once Grissom had seated himself, he pulled his glasses on and glanced around at his team.

"Ok, what do we know?" Grissom directed the question at Nick and Greg. They had after all done most of the work on the case.

Nick dragged a hand over his chin, leaning forward on the table. "Four vics." He pulled out a stack of photographs and slid a pile of various shots of James Faulkner onto the surface.

"This was your case, Rick." Nick said. "You want to do the honours?"

Warrick nodded and began speaking.

"Guy was found in his apartment two weeks ago. He was pretty messed up. Looked like he had gone about thirty rounds with Tyson. Anyway," Warrick continued, "COD was multiple blunt force trauma. Most significant was the wound to the occipital bone, crushed his entire skull like a tissue paper."

Greg took his eyes off Warrick to glance down at the photograph Sara had just handed him. The bloodied, bruised and hardly recognizable face of a Caucasian man stared back at him with glazed, bloodshot eyes. His short blond hair was matted with crimson clots in places, his cheek bones swollen like he had golf balls in his mouth. Greg felt a chill run up his spine. it was beyond brutal.

"He was unemployed," Warrick persisted, "in fact from his work records, aside from one courier job when he was about eighteen that lasted just a week, James Faulkner hasn't done a day of work in his life."

"How was he supporting himself?" Sara questioned, handing Greg the next picture in the pile. Greg, who had become consumed with the dead man, shook himself and quickly handed Grissom his photo before taking Sara's.

"I don't know for sure," Warrick said with a wry smile, "but my guess? From the amount of illegal substances that turned up in his tox screening would be drug running."

Sara nodded. It made sense. He had to be living on something.

"Anyway," Warrick continued. "I found traces of rock on his clothing. Turns out the vic was stoned to death. When Greg and I went back to his apartment we found the word scum written on his wall in blood."

"It had been washed off," Greg explained, "But a little light trick and the ALS picked it up clear as day."

"Ok," Grissom jumped in, rubbing a hand over his sprouting beard. Evidently he was growing it again. The beard of Gilbert Grissom had been on and off more than a light switch. "Next victim."

Nick lowered his eyes to the next file. "James Ashcroft. Thirty-two. Single." Nick opened a manila folder and quickly flicked his eyes over the notes.

Adrienne and Jack had done some work on this case as well. Nick obviously wanted to make sure he included all the details in his handover.

"Yeah." Nick muttered to himself before glancing up. "Works up town in a bar called Rosie's. Was found stuffed in his closet. Super Dave said the COD was multiple stab wounds at the scene and –" He broke off, momentarily sifting through the file for the coroners report. Finding it he scanned over it before nodding. "Yeah, four stab wounds to the back and torso, sharp force trauma to the back of the head… Doc Robbins says probably a knife wound. No weapon found at the scene as of yet though so we've got nothing to match it to."

Sara had been studying one of the pictures and said. "What's the TOD on James Ashcroft?"

Greg spoke this time. "David put it at about eleven o'clock Monday evening, give or take a couple of hours."

"So two days before the third victim – Marcus Rowley – was found." Grissom mused, his lupine eyes scanning over the photograph Sara had just passed him.

It was like some sadistic game of pass the parcel only there were no prizes when the music stopped, only dead people and no answers as to who killed them.

"Are these crosses on all the victims?" Sara asked, having taken the picture of James Ashcroft's hands from Warrick.

Greg recalled the crosses burnt into his hands with a small shudder. The killer was trying to make a point with such a strong symbol but what that point was bypassed Greg completely.

"No, just this guy." Greg replied to her question. "But at every murder we've found words written."

"What did you find at this guys scene?" Warrick asked, leaning idly back in his chair. To an outsider it looked as if the african-american man was not really paying attention but Greg knew him well enough to see he was mentally fitting all the pieces of the unfinished puzzled together.

"Nothing as of yet." Greg continued. "We didn't get chance to finish processing Ashcroft's apartment but there will be words somewhere there, I would bet half my pension on it."

Grissom said. "First job on the list for tonight is to finish that scene." The group nodded in agreement. "What else did you and Nick find?"

Greg quickly relayed about Ashcroft's car being found at Kerry Tomlinson's scene. He brushed over the details of his attack in the alleyway and definitely steered clear of any mention of dumpsters, not wanting to get into that again with Nick and Warrick. Once he was finished Sara spoke.

"So the killer uses a car from the second murder in the fourth?"

"Weird, I know." Greg agreed. "All I cant think is that he wanted Ashcroft found and we hadn't done so quickly enough."

"Do we know for definite it was used in James Ashcroft's murder?" Grissom interjected, obviously feeling they might have been getting ahead of the evidence.

Greg nodded. "I managed to get a blood sample just before I was hit. DNA came back as Ashcroft's."

"That's how we ended up in that guy's apartment in the first place." Nick added.

Silence resounded around the room as the three CSIs looked over the remaining photographs of the body and whilst Nick took a moment to look over the case notes. Warrick was just looking over a photograph of the closet were Nick had found the body, when his green eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Why in the closet?" Warrick remarked to no one in particular.

"Why not?" Greg responded with a flick of his shoulders.

Murder was never logical.

Warrick gave him a somewhat frustrated look.

"Well, Einstein, because Mr Ashcroft lived alone. Why go to all the effort of hiding him? Who the hell was going to find him?"

Greg opened his mouth and then shut it again. He had the feeling he looked like a sea lion doing so but he couldn't think of an argument to counter Warrick's. Also he felt somewhat stupid for not thinking of it himself. _Why the hell had the body been in the closet?_

Grissom raised a brow. "It begs the question of who our killer was hiding him _from_."

"Domestic staff maybe?" Sara said causing both Greg and Nick to laugh. She cast them an affronted look.

"Sara, if you had seen this apartment-" Nick began.

Greg shook is head, his mirth back under control.

"Dirt _on_ dirt is a phrase that springs to mind, Sara. That apartment hasn't been cleaned in months."

"Ok," She continued, her tone still reproving, "then maybe some other service."

"The guy did like his take out." Greg mused.

"Yeah but dead guy's don't order food, Greg." Warrick countered.

"Ok," Grissom pulled them all back into the task, knowing the knack they had for getting off topic at times. "Third victim was Marcus Rowley. A lawyer, married but no children. He was found hanged from the banister of his house, his hands tied."

Nick took another set of photographs out and passed them around the group as Grissom continued to talk.

"Tox turned up GHB in his system and at the scene Greg found Judas written under the bed in his blood and Doc Robbins found thirty pieces of silver in his stomach." Grissom stated matter of factly.

"GHB?" Sara quirked her brow. "That's a new one. Did any of the other vics have any drugs in their system?"

Nick obligingly flicked through the coroners reports before shaking his head. "Faulkner tested for coke, heroin, even some weed but no pharmaceuticals."

"What about Mr Ashcroft?" Warrick asked.

Sara had Ashcroft's file in front of her and began perfunctorily flicking through it.

"No." She said finally, "but there was a substantial period between his death and him being found. It's possible that if he was given GHB it was out of his system by the time the tox screening was done. I mean it's usually got a half life of about six hours, give or take, depending on dosage and food taken in that time… If the killer took a long time to kill him – and the blood in the car would suggest that – then it's also possible it was out of his system peri-mortem."

Greg glanced at the photograph of Ashcroft on the table. "I think food was the last thing on his mind." He said pulling a face.

"What about Kerry Tomlinson?" Grissom pressed.

Nick pulled the file from the bottom of his pile, opening it and thumbing through it.

"Uh, yes. Minute traces. Could have been a larger dose given initially but as Sara said GHB runs through the system quickly."

Greg almost sighed with relief. He was glad that she had been drugged. Her death had been the most horrific of the four. Greg figured being intoxicated was probably kinder.

"Ok so that brings us nicely onto the fourth victim," Nick continued. "Kerry Tomlinson, the youngest of the four at nineteen, was found abandoned in a warehouse, head removed clean from her body. It still hasn't been found." Nick said with a wince.

A resounding shudder ran around the group. It was gruesome enough that her head had been removed but the fact it had been taken by the killer was even more disturbing.

"Yeah, Jack and me worked the scene." Greg said quietly. "Found the word whore written next to the body and not a lot else."

"TOD was approximately seven o'clock Thursday night." Nick added.

"Faulkner two weeks ago, Ashcroft Monday, Rowley Tuesday, and Kerry Thursday. This is definitely escalating." Sara noted.

"Mmmhm." Was the only sound Grissom made as he stared into the table as if it held all the answers before finally saying. "Most serials don't act so quickly. They take time to plan, arrange things. Leave no room for mistakes. They don't want to get caught. This seems almost… rash. Rushed. But precise. Each victim was killed meticulously. He had all the tools he needed. Brought everything with him, took everything away."

"So why the short time span?" Nick threw the question out.

"You think something triggered him to go on a killing spree?" Warrick asked Grissom.

"It would seem that way." Grissom replied with a tired sigh. "Simply because of the intensity and frequency of these crimes. "

They all mulled that over before Greg said. "Then the killer has to know the vics. Has to have known their movements, where they would be so he could murder them. You cant just randomly hack four people to death on a whim. Planning is essential. He had to know he had time to take Kerry's head off. To write Judas under Rowley's bed... He must have been watching the victims for weeks."

"Exactly." Grissom said favouring the younger man with a pleased smile.

"So we're looking for a link again." Nick groaned. "Man, this case feels like its going round and round in circles."

"Maybe." Grissom responded. "But the answers lie in the evidence. The transcripts from the interviews with Kerry Tomlinson's sister should be in the file. Maybe they can shed some light on the case." Grissom said.

Nick rummaged through the manila folder and finally located a wad of paperwork, stapled in the corner. He passed it down the table to the older man who took it from Greg, scanning his eyes over it. After a couple of minutes he was already finishing the last page and tossed it negligently onto the table.

"Sister says Kerry was a student at Amelia Morison Dance School." Grissom said.

Greg nodded. "I found a necklace with that on."

"Seems she was well liked. Spent a lot of time out on the strip partying. Worked on the side at…" Grissom flicked back through the transcript. "Harley's Café to pay tuition fees."

"Any of the other vics have anything to do with Harleys? On the employment roll? Ate there?" Sara asked.

Nick shook his head.

"Doesn't seem so."

"She also has a previous for street walking," Greg recalled.

"Maybe that was how she used to pay her fees." Nick grunted.

"Yeah college is damn expensive." Warrick rolled his eyes.

"Well it fits with the whole whore thing." Sara said. "Maybe our killer has a thing against selling flesh."

"He sure likes to play with it though." Greg muttered wryly.

"Four vics. All similar MOs but nothing to link them." Warrick mused. "What's the deal with this guy?"

Grissom exhaled deeply, brushing his fingers over his lips thoughtfully. "There has got to be something to link these four people together. We must be missing something."

"We just have to find it." Sara agreed.

"Ok," Grissom said finally, realising they had exhausted this avenue and now was the time to hunt for evidence, "Nick, Greg, the three of us will head up to Ashcroft's apartment, process it fully. Sara, Warrick I want you two to go over the car. See what you can get from that. I'll talk to Archie, see if he can find anything in their backgrounds that might suggest a common link."

The CSIs all got to their feet and filed out of the room. Greg had a feeling this was going to another long shift. With a nonchalant attitude at the inevitable his only thought was that at least his overtime would go some way to pay for a new car after his accident.

It was a small consolation.


End file.
